The Straightforward Path
by Mother of Pearl Fetish
Summary: A dark and potentially disturbing backstory for Paul Spector. I do not own characters or plot lines from The Fall. I have taken them for a dark run. Features Paul, Sally, Olivia, Stella, PSNI staff, with mentions of Rose, Tom, David Alvarez, etc. Rating should be MA but I can't access it. Warning: triggers. Proofed and reloaded with chapter number changes.
1. Chapter 1

**The Straightforward Pathway Has Been Lost…**

"Midway upon the journey of our life, I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightforward pathway had been lost." _Inferno, Canto I_ , Dante

 **XXX**

AN: If you absolutely adore Stella Gibson…this story is not for you. I do not own the characters, plot, etc. from _The Fall_. I simply felt like taking them for a dark run…

I humbly apologize in advance…but there were issues in _The Fall_ which affected the timeline of my story. Part of me wanted to think Paul tried to love and marry Sally to create a normal, stable, happy home life for himself. However, they married in 2004 according to one of the police meetings. Additionally, Olivia must turn eight before Sarah Kay is killed in April 2012 because of the comment she makes in the park. Consequently, Sally must be pregnant with Olivia when they marry.

Also, I apologize in advance… ** _there will be triggers (sexual content, moral ambiguity, violent content, unsettling dark quotes)_**. The triggers advance the plotline. I do not make light of Paul Spector's actions.

"People" watching is Peter/Paul's euphemism for watching the ladies.

 **XXX**

 **Chapter One**

 **June 2002 ~~~ '** ** _when the ship began to sail'_**

After the incident with Rose, Peter felt he needed to leave Belfast to protect himself. He had no guarantee Rose would not go to the police. He could argue it was consensual rough sex…but the hideous bruises on her neck would betray the undercurrent in him. Her bruises would put him on police radar. He saw Rose was conflicted the last time they were together. He didn't know if she was afraid to continue their dark sexual exploration, afraid of how she felt about him, or if she was simply afraid of him. She simply said they were over. When she promised to never tell anyone about their sexual exploration; he swore to go away and never contact her again.

He packed important things (composition books, lingerie, pictures and a small document lockbox) in a footlocker. His mannequin was stored in a sturdy shipping box. He went to a lock-up facility which offered small storage units to students over the summer to store things needed in dormitory rooms and flats when classes resumed in the fall. He rented one of their 4x4 units for a year and safely stored his dark possessions.

His lockbox contained a picture of his mother, a lock of her hair, a picture of him when he was ten, Peter Baldwin's passport and his Peter Paul Spector birth certificate. His father was John Paul Spector, the son of a Russian Jewish couple in Northern London. He was a soldier, assigned to Belfast during the troubles when he met Mary Garrison and sired a son. Peter was not interested in searching for John Paul Spector or his parents.

Peter sold everything he owned of value, including his car, and traveled to London. He found a bed and meals at a men's only refuge, run by Catholic nuns. He remembered enough prayers and ecclesiastical teachings from his younger days to convince the nuns he was a poor, but honorable, Irish Catholic boy who was down on his luck. Essentially, Peter planned to hide in plain sight.

He hired out as day labor, paid at the end of each day. His physical strength was appreciated at truck yards, loading and unloading trucks; or railway yards, loading and unloading rail cars; or at construction sites. Ten-hour days netted him £40 a day.

At the end of the first day, he bought toiletries, a small lockbox and a lock. He put all his funds, except twenty pounds, in his lockbox and secured his possessions in his assigned locker with his personal lock.

When Peter wasn't working as day labor, he did odd jobs and manual labor at the church, convent, refuge and charity shop for credit at the charity shop, acquiring clothes, books and other needed items. His willingness to perform manual labor for older members of the parish endeared him to the nuns. They had tasks for him from sunrise to sunset on weekends which prevented him from dwelling on Rose…and what if? Before two weeks passed, he obtained a footlocker to hold his possessions when he moved on.

Peter attended the earliest mass on Sunday morning. It was attended by nuns and devout members. The brunettes, too young to interest him, sat with their family. They carried their rosaries and Bibles like an invisible, inviolate shield against assault on their virginity. It amused him.

Peter found a job working at a Caribbean restaurant as a waiter from six to midnight, Tuesday through Saturday. His good looks earned him flirtatious glances and generous tips. Customers, both male and female, wrote their name and private mobile number on the back of business cards tucked inside his tips. He was not interested in any patron of the restaurant. He was not interested in the high school girls who worked at the restaurant.

Because of his work hours, he moved out of the refuge into a pay-by-the-week hotel room, where he kept his money and possessions locked away in the footlocker on the floor of his closet. At the end of his first work week at the restaurant; he went to a pub which catered to college students…and crossed paths with David Alvarez.

 **XXX**

"I owe you," David said. "You know why."

"The night in the dormitory?" Peter asked.

"Yes. I thought you would pick me. You looked at me. Jensen looked at me. I knew he wanted me. But you walked right past me and choose another boy." David said nervously.

"He tried to convince me it was the will of God for me to choose you." Peter said.

"Why didn't you…" David swallowed hard.

"Why didn't I choose you?" Peter asked. "Revenge. I picked the brother of the chosen boy who picked me."

"I'm taking classes and working on my general studies degree. But I have a place in Brixton, and you can stay with me if you want to. I just ask you pay for your own food, drink and drugs." David offered.

"If I move in – you never touch me. You never proposition me," Peter demanded.

"Agreed," David said. "I like girls…college girls."

 _'So do I,'_ Peter thought to himself, and had flashbacks of Rose…naked in his bed…her mouth on his cock…passed out while he fucked her hard…and the tender way he worshipped her body because he hoped she loved him.

 **XXX**

David taught him to donate to a sperm bank. Although he was only paid £35 pounds per donation and could only donate ten times, he couldn't turn down an easy £350 profit in a few weeks' time. Peter's good looks worked in his favor. Once Peter tested as clean; the fertility specialist, swayed by his handsome face and physique; decided to forgo any counseling sessions.

One of the older waitresses. Rita, taught him that a blush and a shy smile would triple his tips. She taught him to manicure his nails and use hand cream with cotton gloves nightly to keep his hands soft. She taught him how to use an exfoliating facial weekly to keep his face moisturized. She took him to a salon to get a stylish haircut and eyebrow trim. She taught him to utilize correct posture always. She helped him practice serving wine and holding trays. She taught him which wines to recommend for different dishes.

He spent his available funds on real gold cufflinks and a gold tie tack. They were simple disks with a brushed surface. He took great pleasure in throwing the gold-tone ones he had been wearing in the trash. As his generous tips continued, he purchased a gold-plated watch and a gold-plated pen to take orders.

Rita recommended Peter to her previous employers who owned a catering firm. The catering firm assured Peter if he dressed better...he would be hired for the better events...which meant better wages and tips. Rita counseled him on purchasing quality, high end men's clothes. He spent his sperm bank funds on two black silk ties, two white dress shirts, two pairs of black dress pants, a good black leather belt, and black designer men's shoes.

The catering firm only hired the best looking, best spoken, best workers for wedding breakfasts. A four-hour wedding breakfast netted him £20 and a share of the tip from the bridal party. However, his pockets were filled with £5, £10 and £20 notes, with mobile numbers and names.

It was uncanny how Peter could remember beautiful brunette brides to recreate in his composition book:

 _A lovely brunette with mischievous grey eyes; her hair in a messy updo; a bottle of champagne exploding between her naked and perky breasts…_

 _A saucy brown-eyed brunette with curly hair which brushed the swells of her naked breasts; wearing a bridal white thong; captured in a mirror while she adjusted her suspender and stockings…_

 _A sweet hazel-eyed brunette with an oval face; wearing nothing but her veil which swirled around her hips and accented her heart-shaped ass…_

 _A blushing brunette with jade green eyes and delicate freckles; sitting in a chair with her legs spread; covering her sex with the bridal bouquet...the deep pink roses of the bouquet matching her pouty lips and erect nipples…_

 _A sedate dark-blue eyed brunette, with 'just-been-fucked' tousled hair; full, firm breasts with \ erect nipples, kneeling on a white fur rug; her hands handcuffed to her ankles; her knees spread…_

 _A vivacious brown-eyed brunette sitting on white satin sheets which offered a tantalizing view of the top of her ass, but covered her legs…brushing her hair over one shoulder…her left breast visible…_

 _An enchanting ebony-haired beauty…naked and leaning against a four-poster bed…wearing white stockings and stilettos…her right leg bent to cover her naked sex…her buxom breasts jutted forward…her head tipped back…eyes closed…_

Peter was sure his drawings of the brunette brides were more erotic than their wedding nights which seemed to promise them ordinary sex with ordinary men. He stalked three of the guests from the wedding breakfasts. Peter broke into their flats and stole only white silk or satin panties…the better to masturbate with when he drew erotic pictures of the brunette brides.

 **XXX**

"Rough night?" The pretty brunette waitress at his favorite diner asked Peter.

"Yes," He shrugged. "One of the waiters didn't show tonight, so we were quite busy. I won't complain about the extra work because the tips were excellent."

"You frequent us when you don't go drinking with friends after your Saturday shift at the restaurant," she said.

"I worked a wedding breakfast this morning, it was a ten-hour workday." Peter said. He made over £300 in catering pay, catering tips, and restaurant tips today. He kept three mobile numbers and names from two brunette bridesmaids and a cousin of the bride. The groom's father slipped a £50 note in Peter's pocket, with his business card. Peter enjoyed passing the tip and number to another male waiter, who blushed and smiled.

"Pancakes, eggs and bacon with juice? No coffee or tea to keep you awake?" She asked.

"I didn't know you were so observant," Peter said stiffly. "However, I'd like waffles this morning instead of pancakes."

"I watch everyone. I plan to study theatre arts in college," she said airily. "I want to become a famous actress someday."

"When do you start college," he asked casually, but his self-preservation alarm screamed at him.

"This fall; I've been accepted for Theatre and Performance Studies at King's College here in London." She wrote down his order. "Hey, how is Bernie's new tattoo?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't know she had one." Peter didn't pay attention to the personal lives of his coworkers. He read a complimentary copy of a college newspaper, but watched the brunette waitress as she worked. She was observant…too observant. He took the events calendar from the paper and tucked it in his pocket. Free events meant 'people' watching.

"How do you know Bernie got a tattoo?" Peter asked when she brought his breakfast.

"She didn't sit in a booth for two weeks. She sat at the counter. I could see a large bandage across the small of her back, under her shirt when she bent down to pick up her keys which she dropped." Bethany explained.

"Interesting," Peter said, attacking his breakfast. A routine was necessary to make you unobserved; to make you blend into the masses, to prevent you from making obvious mistakes. Perhaps he should ask Bethany what else she observed about him so he could correct obvious tells before he moved on.

When he woke later today, he would shop at a stationery store. He needed new composition books and art pencils; especially since he had the events calendar guiding where and when he would 'people' watch. Tomorrow, he would be sure to attend the _Shakespeare on Sunday_ event in the community park close to campus. He enjoyed the pictures of the attractive brunette cast members in the newspaper.

 **August 20, 2002 ~~~ '** _ **twas like a bird without a tail'**_

When Peter became alert on the morning after Susan's death, he packed everything he owned in the footlocker and his trusty backpack. He eliminated any written reference to himself from the Brixton flat before the police sought David with questions about Susan's death. Removing his fingerprints and any possible DNA from the place was a chore; but worth the effort. He had a list of places to check for fingerprints...ice cube trays, light bulbs, light switches, shelves in the medicine cabinet and shelves in the refrigerator; and places to check for DNA…rails on beds, hair from shower drains, washer and dryer filters, bars of soap, etc. He saved almost £2000 from ten weeks of work at both the restaurant and the catering service. Supporting himself, drinking and drugs ate away at his financial safety net. After dark, he left David's flat and walked 30 blocks to a cab stand. He took a cab to a hotel by the train station.

Forty-eight hours later, when the death of Susan Harper and the picture of David Alvarez appeared in the news; Peter took trains and a ferry to Belfast, with his backpack and the footlocker containing his worldly goods. At the train station, he 'people' watched while pretending to read _Selected Letters of James Joyce_. The letters were risqué and titillating, revealing the intimacy between Joyce and his wife. The title of the book kept everyone from asking questions. They didn't want to be bored to death by an academic.


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own characters, plot, etc. from _The Fall_. I have just taken them for a dark run…

There will be triggers _(sexual content, moral ambiguity, violent content, unsettling dark quotes)_. They advance the story. I do not make light of Paul Spector's actions.

 **XXX**

 **Chapter Two**

 **Belfast, September 2002 ~~~ '** _ **when the seed began to grow'**_

Peter accessed the lock-up and retrieved his possessions. He added his new composition books and lingerie to the old footlocker. He rented a 'by-the-week' hotel room, which didn't require identification. He used his birth certificate to apply for a new driver's license. Just before noon on Thursday, Peter Baldwin had a new driver's license as Peter Paul Spector, featuring a picture of him with a different haircut, two-day stubble and a white dress shirt with a black silk tie. He signed the license, Paul Spector.

 _Leave no trace…destroy evidence._ Peter kept his good clothes from the catering service for future job interviews. He donated the clothes he wore when he met Susan to a local charity collection bin. He donated his regular black and white waiter clothes. He donated any bright colored shirts to charity and replaced them with darker, subdued colors. He avoided football jerseys or logo t-shirts; selecting plain, long-sleeve t-shirts, Henley shirts or polos.

Paul applied to Queen's College for a degree in psychology. While he was at an age where he should have graduated with a degree in general studies from Stranmillis, he needed a change in profession to accompany the change in name and appearance.

An advisor helped Paul obtain admission to Queen's College. Once he had admittance, the advisor requested he complete an I.Q. test and a 100-question personality test. His advisor was gathering information for a future professional paper. Paul completed the I.Q. test that afternoon and returned two days later with the personality test. While he felt half the questions were stupid, he provided careful answers to the multiple-choice questions. Many times, he opted for the 'neutral' answer.

Because the Fall 2002 semester had already started; the advisor helped Paul apply for a student loan, apply for online courses now, and apply to test out of as many core classes as possible. The testing out sessions occurred during the three-week winter break, one test each morning and afternoon. If Paul was available to test during that window, he could test out of 30 core classes for a total of 60-90 credits. Additionally, there were special seminar classes Paul could take on a weekend for credits. It meant four hours on Fridays, eight hours on Saturday and four hours on Sunday. The seminars required a research paper which was easy for him. Each seminar was worth two or three credits. His advisor suggested Paul take core classes during the eight-week summer session, if he didn't test out of the course. His advisor recommended he take courses for his major during the eighteen-week fall or spring semester.

Because he tested in the high range on his IQ test; his advisor agreed to allow Paul to take the maximum number of classes: eighteen credits in a spring/fall semester and twelve hours during a summer session. Maximum load, online courses, seminars and testing out of some courses meant Paul could graduate with his bachelor's degree in two years instead of three. His advisor helped Paul apply for scholarships and internships.

Paul worked ten-hour days as a day laborer when he wasn't attending a seminar. Paul preferred manual labor because he did not have to deal with the public and very few of his coworkers were the curious sort. He spent his early nights in the campus computer lab or library computer lab to complete online classes. He was determined to complete one online class a month before graduation. He was determined to test out of as many core classes as possible before Spring Semester 2003 started. He knew full time work and a strict academic schedule would impact his prowling; but he was determined to get his degree and move on to a better life for himself.

Paul's work backpack had standard items: reading book, composition book, art pencils, sunglasses, lunch, stainless steel water bottle and coffee thermos. His prowling backpack held breaking and entering tools like lock picks, lock bumps, thin plastic cards, glass cutter, chisel, etc. It had a camera, wrist torch, grey neoprene gloves, black leather gloves, and a throwaway mobile. His campus backpack included a copy of the campus events calendar, a composition book and drawing pencils for the times when he 'people' watched. The other contents varied depending on materials for online courses.

Paul had a system for 'people' watching. Weekend events in the park always gave him two or three possible 'projects'. Whether it was theatre productions, concerts, exercise classes or outdoor markets; he brought a composition book and art pencils. He considered 'people' watching a vital component of observing skills for his degree.

Paul observed hair first...brunettes only. He could name every shade of brunette hair. Some brunettes had blonde or red highlights; but he enjoyed the darkest brunette hair the most. He observed body type. He never watched overweight women. He only watched women who were five feet to five feet eight. Face and eyes were observed next. He could name every hue of every eye color. It was a handy artistic talent to have. He preferred pale skinned brunettes, but was not averse to watching healthy, tanned women.

Amazingly, his choice of who to watch changed as he grew older. He only watched women about same age as himself. He never watched teenagers and never watched mothers. Waitresses, sales clerks, teachers, and child minders did not interest him. He never watched women who had obvious tattoos. Inked skin did not interest him. He had a list of taboos which kept him from stalking women: someone who lived with a boyfriend or family or who had overtly friendly neighbors; someone who owned a large dog for protection; someone who carried pepper spray on key chains; or someone who took self-defense classes.

The way the brunettes walked, talked, and dressed impacted how he selected who to follow. Paul watched how clothes fit and innate style. He never watched sloppy or slovenly dressers. Angry striders were ignored. Nervous or irritable women were ignored. Confident, well-presented women always caught his attention.

Paul recorded pertinent details he learned about the women he observed. He preferred women who kept their living space as tidy as their person. It was easier to scrutinize their homes, observe the contents of their dressers and closets, bathrooms and medicine cabinets, refrigerators and bars. He enjoyed searching desks, their mail and checking their diaries for their schedules. He enjoyed reading their journals. Their bedside tables often yielded titillating results: erotic novels, vibrators, dildos and other sex toys. Several had pictures of semi-naked men and cologne samplers for men. He took pictures of their bedrooms, their toys and racy excerpts from their journals.

 **XXX**

Unlike his fellow classmates who would nail anyone who spread her legs; Paul was very careful about his sexual choices. He dressed well and frequented four and five-star hotel bars when he needed to get laid. His sexual trysts were limited to brunette, professional women who were passing through Belfast. He offered a handsome strong body which could fuck all night long. They were not dismayed to find him gone in the morning, especially when they needed strong coffee and headache tablets with a hot soaking bath to recover.

At least, they were sure it was all-night sex from warm memories of how he kissed them senseless and the way they ached when they woke in the morning. They were thrilled he left hickeys in places which could be covered until they faded. While the brunettes might not remember the evening; they were thrilled to see more than one condom in the trash can. Most of them didn't mind that he took a pair of panties as a souvenir.

Just like the brunette brides…Paul kept one composition book for his weekend conquests. One picture of them posed on the bed in one of his favorite restraint positions on the odd pages. Pertinent information on the back of the picture page.

 **XXX**

 _ALC…27…American events planner from Boston…on her way to Ashford Castle and Ballyseede Castle - gathering information for a destination wedding…taking a three-day London tour after work week…five feet four…110 pounds… shoulder blade length auburn hair…grass green eyes…high cheekbones…threaded eyebrows…smooth hands…French manicure and pedicure… drinks tequila… laughs easily…melodic voice…reads Regency romances… wears reading glasses…carefully packed designer luggage…emerald green and black clothes…black thigh high stockings for restraints…donated a Victoria's Secret emerald, black and gold lace bra, panties, and suspender set…_

 **Mid-September 2002 ~~~ '** _ **when the snow began to melt'**_

Paul found a two bedroom flat in a new housing complex near University Quarter. The rent was modest, the complex was clean, and everyone was too busy to make friends with new neighbors. The small second bedroom of his flat was his 'home office'. It contained his growing collection of lingerie, pictures and composition books, all locked away in a set of suitcases inside a locked closet, where no one would inadvertently stumble across them. He donated the two footlockers to a refuge for families. He left the lockbox of personal items in the closet also. They were well-guarded by his mannequin…dressed in lingerie…posed on her own chair…waiting for Paul to play.

 **XXX**

 _Project JS: 23, studying to be urban planner…petite... shoulder length chestnut hair with wispy bangs…soft features…clear skin… outdoorsy/healthy…blue eyes with green accents. Five feet five, approximately 120 pounds. Straight white teeth (uses whitener and invisible braces)._

Paul spotted her at a campus event and drew close enough to her to learn her name. She discussed her class schedule with a classmate. They were attempting to schedule a study group on a night convenient for them and two others.

A week later, Paul entered her one-bedroom flat by the hall window which was cracked open to allow air into flat. The lounge was decorated with a forest mural on one wall. The other walls were painted in various shades of green. He imagined the greens took on different hues as the sun moved through the rooms.

She had lots of rustic candlesticks made from tree branches or tree trunks. Her candles were all nature scents: woods, trees, meadows, grasses. Three Fiscus trees with fairy lights occupied the corner of the lounge. She read romance novels of knights and ladies. She watched DVDs of King Arthur, Camelot, etc. Her archery equipment was displayed on one wall of the lounge, along with various framed certificates, plaques and a shelf of trophies. She attended renaissance fairs and entered archery tournaments.

Her diary listed college, work and archery events. She had a membership to an archery club. Her mail was unremarkable. Her journal bragged she won first place in a women's archery tournament. She gloated because she had her pick of the first, second, and third place winners as dance partners for the evening. She gave all of them her mobile number.

The next interesting journal entry was when she was invited to a garden party by the second-place winner. They performed an archery demonstration for the guests. She wore a pale blue summer dress which she admitted to losing in the gazebo at the end of the day. She loved his hard body; he loved almost getting caught in flagrante delicto. They had three dates at the archery club with coffee or lunch afterwards; followed by 'dessert' in his or her bed. Paul left her journal laying on her bed, open to the garden party page.

Her wicker bedroom furniture was painted pale green, and her bed was made with forest green bed linens. She had no erotica or sex toys in her bedside table. Her closet was carefully arranged using a closet organizer. She had a lot of green, blue and yellow clothes. In one section, she had three cosplay outfits: a serving wench, a lady, and one which resembled Robin Hood: a green tunic, green leggings and brown boots with a brown leather quiver.

Her dressing table held three meadow scent perfumes. She had matching bath products. He smelled all of them. He went through her drawers, and enjoyed her underwear. She owned nothing intricately embellished; but her underwear was innately sexy in its simplicity. Half her underwear was white. The rest was yellow, green, blue and lavender. She donated a set of silky sky-blue panties and bralette to Paul's collection.

That night, when he drew pictures of her, she was naked and wearing the brown leather quiver, the strap flat between her breasts. She was the goddess Diana, in the meadow, in the moonlight…prey which was ready to be captured.

 **Late September 2002 ~~~** _ **'**_ _ **An intense anticipation itself transforms possibility into reality; our desires being often but precursors of the things which we are capable of performing.' -**_ **Samuel Smiles**

Paul attended a three-credit seminar on sexual addictions for his major; and regretted it. Half the males in the class snickered at the different genre of sexual addictions. Half the females in the class wore jeans and oversized hoodies. The other half fidgeted, checked watches, and played with their hair. Obviously, they had plans after class tonight. The one brunette in class who interested him, was busy texting before break. At break she ran out to the street and greeted a young man on a motorcycle. He handed her a sack from a fast food place and a bottle of water. He promised to pick her up from class. She giggled and kissed him energetically before she ran back inside.

After break, the lecturer was joined by his teaching assistant. She was a lovely, petite brunette. The lecturer called her Mae. When she circulated through the room, distributing handouts, Paul noticed her whiskey brown eyes, and a tiny birthmark on her left cheekbone by her ear. He took notes, but tried to keep an eye on Mae. She wore a black and white tweed skirt, with a black V-neck sweater, black hose and black leather flats.

 _Project MM: 25…teaching assistant… cognac highlights in her mahogany hair… whiskey brown eyes… oval face…alabaster skin…perfectly shaped lips…tiny birthmark on cheek by left ear…pale pink blush…smells like vanilla and spice perfume… bends from hips not waist – back injury?_

When tonight's seminar was over, Paul picked up the room and took the papers to her.

"Thank you," her dainty fingers accepted the papers from him. Her voice was warm and husky, like a 1940s movie star. "Can I help you?"

"I need another copy of the bibliography," Paul said. "I think I misplaced mine during the dinner break." He accepted the bibliography with thanks and left, sliding into the dark by the building, waiting for her to leave.

She exited the building and went to one of the pubs by the student union; meeting up with the professor and two of the older students from the seminar.

 **XXX**

He watched her at the coffee cart the next morning… _likes strong, dark French roast coffee…black slacks, white shirt and black sweater, black loafers and black argyle socks…black tote …wears silver art nouveau combs in her hair…_

He sketched a couple pictures of her while in the seminar. In the first one, she was naked except for her librarian glasses, standing by the table, filing handouts in banker boxes. In the second one, she was naked and laying on the table where she worked. She was propped up, hands at her elbows, her pert breasts barely touching the table. Her knees were bent, feet in the air, angled so he could see the arches of her feet.

He watched her at lunch break. _Sits in the sun…brought her lunch of cut veggies, dip and bottle of water…read biography…ignored the chaos around her…mobile alarm alerted her fifteen minutes before the seminar began again._

He followed her at the end of the day. _…does not talk on mobile or listen to music while walking…attentive to her surroundings...walks briskly… lives in house near campus…house separated into one flat on each floor…lives in basement flat…no roommate…no dog. The cat must go._

 **XXX**

Sunday night, after dark, he ran past her flat, and watched her leave with a group of residents from the house. They were headed to the local pub for dinner and drinks and to participate in quiz night. He lock bumped her back door and gained entry. The cat ran out upon his entry.

 _Lucky creature…gets to live another day_.

Her flat was well-kept. The pale pastel painted walls displayed impressionistic pictures. Her bookends were abstract pieces of marble. He found a green marble disk paperweight on her desk. He liked the weight and feel of it. He dropped it in his backpack.

Her diary listed work and class deadlines except a Christmas party with friends and Christmas visit with her family. Her journal listed accomplishments, affirmations and things to do.

Paul read her medical records with interest – spinal bifida. She was home-schooled grades one through six. The summer after sixth grade, a rod was fused to her spine, allowing her mobility to attend school and live a normal life. She carried a medical alert card with her when she traveled.

… _collects antique silver jewelry…vacations on cruise ships… listens to classical piano CDs…addicted to gourmet liquor chocolates…vanilla-scented candlescapes in kitchen, living room, bedroom and bath…_

 _…wears all black, white and grey clothes…except for a cranberry V-neck jumper and a plum silk dress… nothing backless or revealing…wears flats…owns two great black hats which hang off the finials on her cheval mirror…_

She wore front-clasp bras because the back-clasp ones bothered her back scars, and all her underwear was soft cottons to not irritate her skin. Her lingerie was pale blues, subtle purples, feminine pinks, soft yellows and ice greens. Her chenille robe of pink, peach, lilac, yellow, aqua and pale blue resembled an impressionist painting. Paul took a picture of it to recreate later when he drew pictures of her. He left a delicate looking rose pink short nightie with spaghetti straps and matching robe laying on her bed.

Paul selected a pale blue pair of V-kini panties for his collection. He took pictures of her flat, and ate an orange from the fruit bowl on her breakfast bar before he began his run back to his flat.

His composition book held drawings of her wearing librarian glasses, teaching class naked. He drew her wearing the chenille robe…open to expose her body. He used her panties to masturbate while he viewed the pictures he took of her flat, her journal, her clothes, and her robe. He put her paperweight on his desk…and enjoyed the cool tactile feel of it.

 **October 2002 ~~~** _ **'What hath night to do with sleep?'**_ **\- John Milton**

Paul noticed his next project with a cluster of friends at a _Graphic Arts on the Green_ event hosted by the university. He followed her home. Her indifferent kiss and wan smile at the man who walked her to her door, told Paul she had no steady man in her life. It was obvious her escort wanted to be invited in for the evening and she was not extending an invitation. Paul watched her wander through her flat, checking locked doors and windows before closing her drapes.

However, she didn't close the curtains on the kitchen door, affording him a direct view down the hall. The mirror on the bathroom door reflected the mirror on her bedroom door. It caught most of her movements as she changed into silky sleep shorts and camisole. He had an excellent view of her back, her slim hips and her delectable ass. She plaited her hair while ignoring her ringing mobile. She turned off the mobile ringer and settled in bed. She read for a bit before yawning, stretching and turning out the light.

 _Project CW: 24...paralegal...five feet four... approximately 110 pounds...robin's egg blue eyes...waist-length brunette hair...usually restrained in knot at the nape of her shapely neck. Double pierced ears...hoops in bottom hole, studs in top...wears real gold jewelry. Business attire of dark skirts and blazers...classic, feminine white blouses. Takes night courses to become a solicitor._

 _Walks inconsistently...attentive to surroundings some days...dreamy, absent-minded stroll on other days. Runs 10-block grid around her flat in early morning, never varies her routine or route. Lunch or after work drinks with coworkers at small corner pub near work. Friday night dinner with friends, Saturday night clubbing. Spends Sunday grocery shopping, running errands, or doing household chores in her lingerie while listening to music._

Paul spent a week determining her schedule. He broke into her flat while she was at the pub with friends. She left a key to the back door under a decorated garden stone. Her kitchen was spotless. The interior of the refrigerator was pristine and in need of something occupying space other than bottles of water and condiments.

He photographed her bedroom...shabby chic, white wicker furniture, lacy pillows, cream satin and velour duvet. She was a bed and bath linen snob. Everything was high thread count or Egyptian cotton. Her journal monitored her weight carefully, monitored her marathon training, and lamented the lack of interesting men in her neighborhood, work and life. She pondered the wisdom of joining adult dating sites.

Her bedside table drawer held two erotic novels and a rabbit vibrator with a g-spot stimulator and flavored massage oils. He deliberately moved the bookmarks in the books and relocated her vibrator and oils to her underwear drawer.

In the bottom drawer of her dresser, he found a box from a lingerie store in Queen's Arcade. Inside was a pale cream satin and silk lace bustier, panties, suspender and silk lace-topped stockings. He took the underwear to dress his mannequin, stroking them against his cheek before stuffing them in his backpack. He left the empty box in the drawer. He left her back-door key on her bedside table. He was determined to 'people' watch at the Queen's Arcade at first opportunity.

 **November 2002 ~~~** _ **'I have been one acquainted with the night.' -**_ **Robert Frost,** _ **West Running Brook**_

Paul spotted his next project while running one early Saturday morning. She had been biking with her friends when they stopped for a picnic breakfast in the park.

 _Project DH: 24…heart shape face…pronounced widow's peak…straight, shoulder-length mahogany hair…brown eyes with gold highlights (from family photo on her bedside table)…pediatrics nurse…entertains children with balloon animals…into cosplay…owns weird wigs in all colors…bright, vibrant underwear…_

Paul entered her flat through a balcony door. The lock should have been replaced years ago. A set of stripped screws barely held it together. He left the pieces of the lock on her kitchen counter. Paul used her bike pump to blow up a long pink balloon and four round pink balloons. He taped them together - resembling a large penis with testicles fucking a massive pair of tits. He left the balloon art in the middle of her bed. He acquired a pair of electric blue boyshorts for his collection.

 **December 2002 ~~~** _ **'This strange world of darkness, that comes with the night; grows darker when it walks my way.' -**_ **Willie Nelson,** _ **Ghost**_

 _Project RI: 23…studying to be veterinary assistant…works weekends for large animal clinic…_ _attractive, with a seductive swing of her hips…her dark sable hair is cut in soft layers of curls…arched eyebrows… smoky grey eyes which assess and dismiss a man based on his clothing, physique, financial status, or make of car…_ _knits and crochets…makes custom order sweaters for small dogs…watches black and white film noir DVDs…utilizes cardio and Pilates DVDs…reads mysteries…listens to alternative rock…takeaway menus posted on refrigerator…_

Paul entered her flat through a window. The window lock was not strong enough to keep him out. He simply pushed the window upward until the latch gave and the window opened. Her flat was decorated in contemporary style with black and white wallpaper, furniture and bed and bath linens. Her flat was decorated with panoramic night pictures of large cities...London, Paris, New York, Berlin, Sydney and Hong Kong. Her desk was OCD organized, like her diary. The family photos on her bookcase were painstaking arranged in clusters of three in various sized frames. The candlescape, on a black pottery tray on the coffee table, had never been burned.

Her bedside table drawer was a collection of scented votive candles, matches, a book of short stories, an extra torch and hand cream. Her off-season clothes were clean and meticulously stored in bins under her bed. Three different totes (black, navy and brown) sat in a chair by her closet door. Each contained pen, paper, book, umbrella and a twenty-pound note as the bookmark in the book.

She had one bottle of expensive perfume on her dresser, which matched her bath products. She had one good black dress with designer shoes and purse. She owned one good coat; one good hat; one good scarf, one good cashmere sweater, and a single strand of pearls with stud earrings. She had a gold and diamond dress watch. Ordinary things like torches, matches, candles, and tins of soup had duplicates. Special, life changing items were singular, solitary items… _just like her?_

Paul ignored her cotton panties and her cotton, heavily-padded bras. He found his bounty in the bottom drawer of her dresser…a matching leopard print satin set consisting of a short nightie and robe with G-string panties which he acquired for his collection.

He snapped the necks of her two black and white cats, leaving their corpses on the window seat…posed like they were sunning themselves.

 **January 2003 ~~~ '** _ **Who are you?' –**_ **The Who** _ **, Who Are You**_

Paul was approved for a student loan which covered all his educational expenses. He signed up for eighteen hours of classes, and another online class. Classes began with an urgency Paul had forgotten. His six three-credit courses were not easy, but he was determined to achieve honors grades. However, he was also determined just to achieve high honors…and forgo the media scrutiny which accompanied Summa Cum Laude students.

His advisor helped him get a work study job at the events center. He helped set up for concerts and events, and helped tear down and clean up afterward. He attended concerts and events for free, and was paid well for physical labor. If it was an event featuring food - he was well fed. The plus side of the job? 'People' watching.

 **XXX**

 _Project EL: 23…biomedical research student… large, pale blue eyes…pale skin…curly hair which appears to be shoulder length, but when wet, it comes to four inches below her shoulders. Graceful walk. She is a shy beauty, unaware of the effect she has on men. Why does she fatigue easily?_

Paul carefully watched her flat from a bus stop. Eventually she emerged to run errands. He pretended to read as she sat on the bus bench next to his. He sat in the bus seat behind her, and noticed her to-do list on her mobile.

At the chemists, where she picked up a prescription, she pushed the hood of her fleece jacket back. She cut her long silky hair into a short and spiky hairdo. Paul was livid. He ran back to his flat. He hoped to find another woman to stalk when he ran…but it was not easy to cast _E.L._ from his mind. He completed a taxing physical workout, exhausting himself to quiet his body. A hot shower calmed him enough to take a nap. When he woke, it was an extended playtime with his mannequin, composition books, pictures and souvenirs.

Saturday, he worked a jazz concert held at the college event center. He was determined to find a new project. However, he saw her again. _WTF? Her hair was long. Did she wear a wig while she was out running errands?_ He was determined to learn her schedule now.

She wore black cigarette pants, a tucked-front white tuxedo shirt with a black bow tie, a black cashmere jacket and black stilettos. The clever girl had a flute of champagne in one hand and a black ruched clutch in another. She could not shake hands with anyone… _Is she a germophobic?_

One week later, Paul entered her home through a conservatory door which was easily unlocked with a plastic card. _reads murder mysteries…listens to classical jazz...art deco decor and furnishings._

He took pictures of her bedroom. She had two dark mahogany human hair wigs which felt like silk slipping through his fingers. She had the short spiky wig and a waist length wig. Paul clipped a lock of hair from the nape of the waist length wig. He tied a knot in the middle and put it in his backpack.

Her desk revealed she was recovering from mononucleosis. It had been severe enough to enlarge her spleen and impair her immune system for a few months. She took a daily vitamin and a daily dose of antibiotics. Her flat contained several containers of antibiotic wet wipes, disinfecting spray, and hand sanitizer. She had several personal sizes of those items to tuck into totes and purses when she went out.

She had a new book of crossword puzzles; but none were finished. Paul took the liberty of completing a few of the harder clues with a red pen. He took a Chantilly lace and silk pair of navy bikini panties and matching bra from her lingerie drawer.

With the picture of her bedroom, he drew her naked, blindfolded, gagged and restrained with her hands tied behind her back. He drew her posed in a three-point restraint on her queen-sized bed, on those art deco bed linens. He drew her kneeling beside her bed in classic submissive pose with her hands, palms up, on her spread legs, eyes downcast. He used the knot in the lock of hair to masturbate. He rubbed that knot over the sweet spot on the underside of his cock… ejaculating on the bra and panties he stole from her.

Later, when he showered, he carefully shampooed the lock of hair and set it to air dry. If he was careful, it would last at least six months. When the lock of hair was dry, he brushed it over his cheeks, remembering how hot she looked in those cigarette pants and stilettos.

 **February 2003 ~~~** _ **'It's easy to be yourself in the dark.' –**_ **Marisha Pessl** _ **, Night Film**_

 _Project AB: 24… bank teller and notary…studying forensic accounting to become a bank auditor… willowy/leggy…wavy shoulder length hair…emerald green eyes…amazing smile… horseback rider… uses e-reader while riding the bus on the way to and from work…always has her umbrella…wears flats at work since she stands all day…never gets pastries for breakfast from coffee cart…always eats fruit or yogurt…_

Paul entered her flat by a small Juliet balcony with French doors off her bedroom. She had a bad habit of forgetting to close the drapes on the balcony French doors. She had an equally bad habit of not locking the balcony French doors.

She drank expensive scotch which was provided weekly on Sunday afternoon by an older man. Paul was pleased her diary explained it was her father. There was no mention of her mother in her journal or diary. _Parents separated? Mother dead or abandoned her?_

She read romances which featured horse ranches, cowboys, etc. Her bookmarks were male cologne samplers. Currently the bookmark was a sampler for _Polo_ by Ralph Lauren - masculine, cedar, leather, and a musk undertone. Paul wondered how it would smell on him; but he had to be careful when he wore it. Cologne could cue a woman that she was being followed.

Her flat was decorated in rustic style…oak furniture, quilts, quilted pillows, and outdoor pictures on the walls. Her DVD collection consisted of westerns and horse movies. It was no wonder her father spent Sunday afternoons at her flat; it was male-friendly. _Why isn't she dating...is it because of her advanced study courses?_

Her refrigerator held citrus-flavored smart water, a dozen kinds of salad vegetables and containers of fresh strawberries and cut fruits. She had lots of different flavor balsamic dressings. She had individual portions of fish and chicken in the freezer, along with three T-bone steaks. Paul helped himself to the steaks and an unopened bottle of scotch.

She had matching sets of pretty lingerie in floral and pastel colors, soft beiges and creamy whites. She had one set of black underwear which he laid out on her bed, with her little black cocktail dress, heels and clutch purse. The clutch was open to reveal condoms and a business card for an upscale wine bar.

She donated hydrangea blue panties to Paul's collection.

 **~~~ first weekend in February**

Paul was interested in the monthly seminars on topics of human sexuality and deviant behavior. He managed to take good notes at the first seminar when the speaker discussed the history of and treatment of voyeurism. Various forms of voyeurism were discussed – including watching a couple having sex. The discussion sparked an argument that being in the same room with a couple having sex was voyeurism. The lecturer brought the group back to the definition of voyeurism – the act of watching a nonconsenting or unaware person for the purposes of sexual arousal. It was argued that watching a scene at a BDSM club behind one-way glass was not voyeurism; but exhibitionism on the part of the Dominant/submissive. Having sex tapes of partners was discussed. Online web cams which showed college girls bathing, showering, exercising or dressing/undressing were discussed and labeled exhibitionism.

Paul's paper for that class was on the topic of sexual addictions: pornography, prostitution, masturbation/fantasy, exhibitionism/voyeurism and BDSM. Paul knew it was a good paper when the lecturer asked to use his example of 'mummy porn' as a possible sexual addiction. Paul postulated that if reading erotica resulted in increased sexual activities, either masturbation by females or engaging in risky sexual situations, then it crossed the border into sexual addiction. He cited the hundreds of erotica books available on Amazon as proof that erotica was a mainstream genre of books.

 **~~~ second weekend in February**

Paul reported to work at five on Saturday morning to help set up for a community non-profit event. The event center was sectioned off by pipe and drape units. Paul enjoyed hiding out in a quiet corner of the mezzanine 'people' watching until he saw a long queue of women for one non-profit. He helped his boss set out lines of chairs for the ladies.

When he had time to observe the non-profit; Paul almost wept. He watched dozens of women with exceptionally long hair donate their tresses to Locks of Love. The hairdressers fastened a hair elastic where the woman indicated they could cut the hair. They braided the hair expertly and finished it off with another hair elastic. Then they cut above the first hair elastic and placed the long braids in Ziploc bags. They then cut the woman's hair to a new style for them and gave them donation slips.

He pulled out his composition book and quickly began sketching the faces and hair of the brunettes in the group. His coffee grew cold, his fingers cramped, but he captured the likenesses of twenty-four young women which would help fuel his fantasies. The event shut down at four, and he worked for three hours to take down pipe and drape units, tables and chairs. Once the event center was clean, and trash taken out, Paul was free for the night.

He could not wait to go home, take a shower, and draw in his composition book. He anticipated a long evening using the lock of hair, his mannequin and various lingerie to amuse himself.


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own the plot or characters, or anything, from _The Fall_. I just took the characters for a dark run…

Therewill be triggers _(sexual content, moral ambiguity, violent content, unsettling dark quotes)_. It can't be helped. I do not make light of Paul Spector's actions.

 **XXX**

 **Chapter Three**

 **March 2003 ~~~** _ **'People often believed they were safer in the light, thinking monsters only came out at night. But safety – like light – is a façade.'**_ **\- C.J. Roberts**

Paul observed her at yoga practice in the park and sketched sexy poses which he planned to recreate with her nude body. The downward-facing-dog pose, the happy-baby pose, the half-dog-facing-wall pose, and the standing-half-split pose showed him how flexible her body was. The bow pose would be recreated with handcuffs fastening her hands to her ankles.

 _Project LG: 25…dental hygienist… pale brown eyes…creamy skin…_ _Her long, thick straight hair is bound in a braid_ _with a fabric and hair elastic which coordinates with the yoga or jogging outfit_ _when she works out_ _. Bound. Wednesday and Saturday gym…practices yoga…joins yoga practice group in park…wears neon-colored yoga outfits or jogging suits_ _._

Paul broke into her flat when she was at a Wednesday gym session. He noticed the acid free paper, pens, glue and tape she used for scrapbooking, and helped himself to an assortment of her materials for drawing pictures. She read historical romance novels and owned period drama DVDs. _Persuasion_ seemed to be a favorite, the cover was worn. She also had the _Persuasion_ soundtrack CD. Her other CDs were an eclectic mix of genres and bands. He read her diary…nothing of note in it. He read her journal…again, very little of note in it. She had patterned and plain lingerie in turquoise, fuchsia, cherry red, bright yellow, brilliant orange, cream, navy and dark violet. _LG_ donated a pair of fuchsia, turquoise and navy paisley print bikini panties to Paul's collection.

 **XXX**

Seminar two addressed clothing fetishes. It sparked a huge debate between many of the male and female attendees over what parts of clothing fetishism were kinky or not. Crossdressing was discussed. Bedclothes were discussed, with most women in the class voting for men to wear something to bed other than football jerseys or t-shirts and boxers. Most of men in the class preferred their female partners to wear lingerie versus t-shirts and sleep shorts. A few, both men and women, preferred their partner sleep nude. Pros and cons of pantyhose versus suspenders and stockings were discussed by both men and women. Paul thought the whole debate was amusing.

Paul's paper for that seminar was on the rising popularity of designer lingerie, lingerie catalogs, and the popularity of lingerie runway shows which could be purchased online. He cited the rise in sexy lingerie used on telly shows and in movies.

 **April 2003 ~~~** _ **'Ribbon of darkness over me,' –**_ **Marty Robbins,** _ **Ribbon of Darkness**_

Paul spotted three potential projects at a health seminar at the event center. Having set up for the event, he walked around the various booths which promoted physical exercise, regular doctor, dental and eye exams.

 _Project DdF: 25…large midnight blue eyes…waist-length raven hair…compact body...sports therapist…pub crawls and pub quiz nights…ex-boyfriend brewed his own beer…enjoys quiet nights at home with low lighting and candles…shops at neighborhood green grocer on Tuesday and Friday…eats vegetarian…helps teach_ _a Saturday nutrition class at community center…_ _clips long hair up in a twist and secures it with a banana clip or braids it into a long bumpy snake down her back…_ _but wisps of her hair fall around her face and blow free in the breeze._

Paul invaded her flat when he thought she was out with friends at the pub. She came home early, her t-shirt soaked – showing her tight, erect nipples. From his vantage point in the hall, he could see her shower thanks to the long mirror on the open door of her bathroom. She rushed into a hot shower the moment she was home. She shivered when her feet touched the cold tile floor, and yelped a little as the hot water droplets touched her cold skin.

As she washed her hair; her raised arms pulled her breasts up tight…her nipples still erect. Her brunette hair was almost raven, with chestnut highlights and mahogany lowlights. He could spend hours washing that hair, blowing it dry, brushing it, and touching it, letting it slip through his fingers while he fucked her mouth. He enjoyed watching her shower. She opened the shower gel and smelled it before pouring it onto a washing flannel. She started at the top of her body and worked her way to her toes. Then she began a sensual wash between her legs.

He would recreate her shower scene in his composition book. He left the hall when he heard her turn off the water. He helped himself to a bottle of citrus-flavored vitamin water after rearranging the refrigerator magnets. When he passed through her utility room as he was leaving; he spotted a basket of clean laundry on the dryer. She donated a pair of vintage satin honey-colored tap panties to his collection.

 **XXX**

Seminar three concentrated on the definition of paraphilia (previously known as sexual perversion or sexual deviancy). Discussion included sexual arousal to atypical objects, situations, fantasies, behaviors or individuals. Discussion included the serious emotional problems for persons diagnosed with various forms of paraphilia. Paul enjoyed the section on a fetish for dolls, mannequins and statues. The attendees digressed into a discussion of little girls having teen dolls like Barbie. Some of the women in class argued about the body image issues associated with Barbie dolls, beauty contests, and young girl models Then they digressed into a discussion of statues like David and Venus de Milo – art versus sex and the pornography regulations regarding art exhibitions.

Paul did not think it would be enjoyable to rub up against the cold hard plastic of his mannequin…but it was titillating to dress his mannequin in some of his favorite lingerie, and pose her for drawing sexually suggestive pictures. He relived his stalking and breaking and entering through his composition books and souvenirs.

Paul's paper for that class was art forms of the art deco period which included dryad photography and bronze castings of nude or semi-nude women. He enjoyed researching the topic and used several pictures of each as illustrations for his paper.

 **May 2003** _ **'**_ _ **Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.' –**_ **Albert Camus** **  
**

Paul's next project was a brunette he spotted at the health fair. He obtained one of her business cards. He researched her, and followed her from her office to her flat. _Project_ _AC: 26…dentist …average height…full-figured… perfectly proportioned body…perpetually erect nipples…graceful walk…fair skin…wavy brown hair with gold highlights...sherry-colored eyes with sweeping eyelashes...fake?_

He followed her the first week of May to determine her schedule. He enjoyed watching her go to the gym. He enjoyed watching her shop for clothes. He enjoyed watching her dress for work. She was an exhibitionist and he enjoyed it.

He watched her and her flat from a copse near her building the second week of May. The wind caught her short, dusky pink satin robe, causing the flaps to open a bit and reveal well-toned long legs. She struggled with the tarp to cover her telescope, and a soft dreamy smile transformed her mouth into a full curvaceous smile. She closed her eyes and tilted her head up to feel the misty rain on her face. She remained standing in the cool rain until her robe was soaked and her nipples were pebbled and erect. She picked up her wine glass and entered her flat, closing and locking the balcony door, placing a barrier in the sliding door track and drew her drapes.

 _"Oh, you hedonistic little exhibitionist,"_ he thought about her obvious enjoyment of the cool rain on her warm flesh.

 **XXX**

A crashing sound against his front door interrupted Paul's study session for his examinations. A child's wail caused him to wrench the door open. "Steady there…" he crooned at the little dark-haired girl, locked behind a safety gate while her petite, short-haired brunette mother struggled with a destroyed moving box and books scattered across the hall.

"Paul," he offered his hand to the woman who ignored it.

"Simone," she said, reaching for and comforting the toddler. "This is Rachel." They both turned to Paul. "Nice to meet you neighbor," she said. "Although, we're moving out today and won't be neighbors in the next twenty-four hours."

"Let me help," Paul gathered books and stacked them into piles. "You can use the box; the bottom needs taped."

"Can you retrieve the tape off the kitchen counter?" Simone asked. "Rachel needs a clean diaper and cuddles."

"Are you trying to move by yourself?" Paul asked.

"We have friends helping us, but they've gone to the house with my partner, Anna." Simone explained. "I was moving book boxes to the hall to jumpstart the last load. The box collapsed, Rachel was awake and crying. You know how everything goes to hell at the same time."

"I'll reload that box, and move the rest to the hall. How much do you have left to move?" Paul observed the starkly empty flat.

"Just the books, bookcases and Rachel's things. We hoped to sleep in the new house tonight." Simone said, taking Rachel down the hall. "It's all right baby. Mama is here…"

Paul fixed the box, reloaded the books and taped the box shut. He put the tape back on the counter. He moved almost two dozen more boxes of books to the hall before Simone reappeared with Rachel.

"I'm surprised," Paul said. "I thought your baby was a boy."

"My baby was a boy. Riley James Donnelly. Anna and I decided to get impregnated by the same sperm donor. That way our children would be biological half-siblings. Riley was born with a heart defect; he didn't…he died before he was six months old. Anna had Rachel, who has been our little princess through all of this. Anna and I decided to buy a house. We're going to try for two more babies using the same donor so Rachel will have biological siblings."

Her mobile ringtone was Melissa Ethridge's _I'm the Only One_. "Anna?" She listened carefully. "I understand. We'll just do the rest ourselves." She hung up.

"What's up?" Paul asked.

"Our helpers cried off for the night," Simone said. "I guess we'll just sleep on the floor in Rachel's room tonight and begin again in the morning."

"Let me help," Paul offered. "I need a break from studying, and you need a helping hand. Ask Anna to return, and we'll finish loading and unloading you. Rachel should sleep in her own bed tonight, and from the looks of it…you could use a good night's sleep also."

Paul helped the ladies assemble Rachel's crib, and carried book boxes and bookcases into the home office. He admired the arched passageways and hard-wood floors through the house. He strongly recommended they change the locks immediately. God only knew who had keys to the place before them. He gave them a quick lecture on barring sliding door and window tracks. It was close to midnight before Paul caught a cab from Simone and Anna's house back to his flat. They wouldn't let him leave without wringing a promise out of him to attend their housewarming party. He noted two apartments in his building still had open drapes and blazing lights. None of the occupants of either intrigued him.

 **The following Sunday ~~~** _ **'**_ _ **The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe.'**_ **– Friedrich Nietzsche**

"We owe Sally a debt of gratitude also," Simone said to a couple attending their housewarming. "She was on pediatrics rotation when Riley died. She suggested we donate his nursery equipment and clothes to a community pregnancy center. Anna and I didn't want to do it; but she was right. It helped more than we can explain. I heard the parents in her current rotation call her an angel."

"There she is now!" Anna cried; her excitement lighting up her pretty face. She was a cute, petite short-haired brunette. She and Simone were the same size, with Halle Berry short haircuts. "I asked her to attend before she goes on shift."

Paul was introduced to _the angel_. Sally Ann Goodall was a strawberry blonde, about five feet ten, about 140 pounds, with warm hazel eyes and a pretty smile. Her face was a classic oval shape. Her complexion was clear and fresh with peachy pink blushes. She was curvy, but not overweight, and smelled like lavender.

"Paul Spector, our ex-neighbor who helped us move and settle...this is the nursing angel we told you about, Sally Goodall." Simone introduced them.

She and Paul shook hands. Her hands were soft and warm, with long fingers and short manicured nails. Her hair was captured in a French braid, with a poufy blue hair elastic. He felt he should speak first...to control the conversation and prevent intrusive questions. "I've heard how wonderful you were to Simone and Anna."

"I have heard about you also," Sally said. Her voice was as kind as her eyes. "I was on OB/GYN rotation when Riley and Rachel were born. You probably don't remember, but you were one of a few neighbors who helped Simone and Anna carry baby furniture and supplies into their flat when they came home with the babies." Their conversation was interrupted by new guests arriving who wanted to meet the angel and the hunky neighbor.

Paul nursed a cold beer while circulating at Anna and Simone's housewarming. He managed to stay 180 degrees from Sally. She unnerved him. He did not want to entertain a girl overtly interested in him. With luck, this would be the last time he encountered _the angel_. Paul did not know how to react when she smiled at him. He mirrored her smile and then wondered if he should have. He managed to escape from the housewarming by carrying Rachel into the house for Anna. He apologized, but he needed to get back to writing research papers and studying.

"Wait," Anna said and took him to the kitchen where she handed Rachel to Simone. She held her finger against his lips and handed him a banker box which Simone had just filled. "Don't grass us…" she smiled. "Thank god you and Sally brought us wine. Inside this box are three shepherd's pies – beef, pork and chicken. There is pasta alfredo with seafood. There is also a chocolate crust strawberry cheesecake pie. We hate shepherd's pies, Simone is allergic to shellfish and I'm allergic to chocolate. We thought you might not mind us feeding you." Anna let him go with a hug and a promise not to be a stranger.

 **XXX**

Paul decided to delay his gratification; he would break into his new project's flat after he finished his exams. He had finished four online classes, three seminars and eighteen hours of classes this semester. He had worked every available weekend at the event center, and felt a little fatigued between classes and work. He knew the excitement of breaking into _AC's_ flat would revitalize him.

After the exams, and after working the weekend for the event center, he broke into her flat when she was out with friends for dinner and theatre. Paul enjoyed the sensual, feminine appeal of her flat. She read romance novels and erotica. She watched chick flicks. She had candlescapes in every room, and fresh flowers in her bedroom. A crystal bowl of limes and lemons graced the top of her bar. He noted the contents of the bar…Waterford crystal glasses, silver bar implements, excellent bottles of liquor...not the kind you buy from the corner all-night store. Beneath the bar; one side held a cooler filled with bottles of rosé and white wines, and bottles of champagne. The other side contained a temperature-controlled wine rack for red wines.

He enjoyed searching her underwear drawers, filled with sensual silk and satin matching sets of lingerie in delicious colors of peach, rose, raspberry, plum, mocha, chocolate and pearl grey. He chose a pair of classic briefs in pearl grey, enjoying the decorative lace and ribbon at the waist. He bet the ribbon nestled at the dip of her navel, and stroked it softly over his face.

He enjoyed her journal which bragged of her success at seducing both sexes. She explained how she selected good-looking, older, married men to engage in oral sex. They were thrilled to receive a no-strings-attached blow job either in their car, a restaurant or bar bathroom, against a dark alley wall, or in their private office at work. Once she seduced them; she never repeated the performance.

She reveled in the volume of women she enticed to her bed… seducing curious but unsure young ladies with her talented mouth and her 'equipment'. She loved how she left them sated and eager to repeat the deed. She had monthly health checks for STDs and always checked her sexual partners' medical cards…probably because she did not adhere to any semblance of monogamy.

Paul was shocked when he found her medical files hidden in a portable file box in the top of her closet. They detailed the liposuction surgeries, electrolysis for her body hair, facial feminization surgery with a tracheal shave, and breast augmentation surgery. The medical files included a picture of her with full breasts and an impressively-sized penis. She was a well-built T-girl.

In his fury at her chameleon efforts; Paul destroyed the grey briefs he planned to take; discarding them inside the portable file which he returned to the closet shelf. He found her gaff briefs in a wardrobe in her bedroom. He took them and planned to toss them in a garbage can on his way to his housing complex. T-girl obviously wore the sexy feminine underwear over a gaff to express her sexuality. He understood the large portfolio of nude pin-up girl illustrations on the bookshelf of her bedside table were masturbatory materials. In his fury at being enticed by her sensual smile and body; he took the portfolio with him.

Later that night, Paul deleted the pictures of her flat from his mobile. He completed a factory reset of the mobile. He shredded the composition book of her information and suggestive drawings of her. He opened the portfolio and kept the illustrations of naked brunettes in suggestive poses. He enjoyed three of the poses which featured blondes, and decided not to destroy them. He darkened their hair and eyebrows, reddened their lips, and applied a rosy hue to their prominent pink areolae and nipples. He shredded the remaining illustrations and put the shreds in the tub, to burn them with his shredded composition book.

That night was a marathon of masturbating with the lingerie and lock of hair from his previous ladies while he enjoyed the illustrations laid out for his viewing pleasure. He could not remember a time when he was quickly aroused over and over for a long period of time. He truly felt mentally, physically and sexually drained when the sun rose and a new week began.

 **XXX**

"Phone message for you," the complex manager delivered a message to Paul. "Someone named Sally called the office when you were off to campus. We're not a message service," he snapped at Paul.

"Sorry," Paul muttered. "She's a friend of Simone and Anna. There must be an issue with them."

"I didn't know you knew them," the complex manager said with surprise.

"I helped them move baby furniture in and helped them move out," Paul explained.

"You never complained about the noise like the other tenants. I didn't think you were aware you had neighbors." He commented.

"Babies cry," Paul said cryptically. "Besides, our kitchens and bathrooms abutted each other. The nursery was on the other side of the apartment; not adjacent to mine."

His answers seemed to mollify the manager.

Paul called Sally while waiting for the bus to campus. He took the bus when he wanted to 'people' watch. If she wanted to chat; he could beg off; claiming he needed to get to campus. Her voice was quite soft and warm when she answered. "Did I wake you?" He asked, faking concern.

"No," Sally said. "I didn't get home until late, and I was just heading for bed." Her soft even voice flowed over the phone. "Paul, I graduate next Saturday. My parents are having a celebration for me. I would really like for you to come to the celebration," Sally said. "Simone and Anna will be there, and they are eager to see you again."

"Email me the particulars," Paul said, giving her the campus email address he rarely used. "I have to work until five." He was scheduled to help set chairs and dais for the graduation ceremony in the event center. They would start at six on Saturday morning. It required a few hours to set up and take down 2000 folding chairs. He had pub plans for celebrating his birthday, but he could go after Sally's celebration.

"We will be celebrating more than my graduation on Saturday. The hospital hired me to work sixty-hour weeks this summer. I was accepted for advanced courses and awarded a paid internship in neonatal studies next fall. I'll be in afternoon classes Monday through Friday, with advanced studies early evening to ten o'clock. I will put in 20 hours a week on Saturday and Sunday nights for the internship." Sally said.

"That's exciting!" Paul injected enthusiasm into his voice. "I will work for the event center, setting up and tearing down events during the summer. I'm taking twelve hours of classes during summer session. I will take online courses when I'm not in class or working. I have a tight schedule for the next year; but I will graduate in May 2004 with a major in Psychology and a minor in Sociology."

 **May 24, 2003 ~~~** **'** _ **The Devil hath power**_ _ **t**_ _ **o assume a pleasing shape**_ **.' – Shakespeare,** _ **Hamlet**_

Sally's graduation celebration peaked shortly before Paul arrived. He wore his best black pants, white shirt and black tie with a charcoal grey sweater which accented his auburn hair and his grey eyes. His beard was well-trimmed, and his summer haircut was a high and tight with curls on top.

"This wasn't necessary," Sally protested when Paul gave her a very pretty wrapped present.

"You graduated with honors and at the top of your class," Paul said. "You deserve it." Paul had no clue what to buy Sally for a graduation gift. He was at the mall, 'people' watching. He followed a lively brunette into a jewelry shop…and needed a reason to be there. He couldn't claim Mother's Day; it had passed. He heard the brunette ask to see rings. Her godparents were giving her a birthstone ring for graduation. Paul asked the sales clerk what he could give a classy female friend for graduation. Hence…a pearl pendant necklace with pearl stud earrings.

Sally hugged him tight when she said thank you. She enjoyed his firm muscles under his clothes, which hugged his fine physique. She was a little buzzed from her graduation celebration, which reminded Paul he was on the prowl tonight for a college girl, getting her drunk to the point of passing out and getting himself laid for his birthday.

Paul enjoyed feeling her breasts press against him. He enjoyed the light lavender smell of her hair, and the softness of her skin. Her hug fueled his determination to find a drunk college girl tonight. He returned Sally's hug with equal enthusiasm; which was viewed with unfriendly eyes by friends and her mother.

"Men don't give women presents like that if they aren't interested," CC lectured Sally when no one could hear. "If he wasn't interested in you, he would have bought you a gift card to a bookstore."

Paul met Sally's parents, John and Carol (CC), met a dozen friends and neighbors, ate wonderful food and nursed one beer while talking to John about his orchard and garden. Anna and Simone let him carry Rachel around the farm for almost an hour. He named animals and imitated their sounds to entertain Rachel. It kept him from discussions with Sally's family and friends. It kept him from being eye-candy and entertaining Sally's friends. Anna and Simone ran interference with the group, explaining he was their ex-neighbor and taciturn by nature.

Half a dozen of Sally's friends watched Paul with Rachel, rating his suitability as daddy material. "He probably has half a dozen babies by different women," one of them commented. "He can father my babies," another added. "Forget the babies," a third one chimed in. "I just want to have fun practicing." One of the crowd scoffed, "It would take you a 12-pack to see his 6-pack." Another sighed, "I wouldn't mind fucking with the lights on if I was looking at that man." The last one shook her head, "I think you're all wrong…he probably has an equally hot boyfriend."

"No wonder he's walking around with the baby," CC commented to Sally. "Your friends act like he's filet mignon." Sally looked over at him, watching his easy gait, his athletic physique and his firm ass which was showcased by his black dress pants. She wondered if he had butt dimples. She thought, _'No, that's an extra cut Prime Rib…with all the trimmings. His ass is better than David Beckham's.'_ Then she bit her lip to keep from swooning.

Paul offered to stay and help John clean up the yard after the party; but John insisted he head for home before it was dark. Too many graduates and families had been celebrating today. He warned Paul to watch out for other drivers. CC sent him home with a market basket of fresh vegetables. He planned to share them with the complex manager and his wife. Sally watched his fine ass walk toward his car, and his ease at entering his car. She waved goodbye, and he flashed his lights at her in reply.

Zoe Martin, age 22, a pale petite brunette with sea green eyes, was a statistics student who also studied urban planning. He didn't know how her slender neck held up the mass of hair on her head. It cascaded down her back, ending in soft curls at her waist. She celebrated at a campus pub because exams were over. She was determined to party and have a good time before she went home for the summer. She drank and danced with every fool in the place. However, she kept checking Paul out. When she came to the bar to purchase another drink; he paid for it and engaged her in conversation. Zoe asked if he wanted to continue partying at her flat. She explained her roommate, Liza, had gone to a boyfriend's flat until Monday. They talked and drank. When all her friends were busy dancing. Paul and Zoe slipped out of the bar.

The high-thread count sheets on Zoe's bed were almost as soft as her skin. She lost all her clothes and consciousness before Paul made it to third base. He left her bed to ensure windows and doors were locked, and drapes were closed. He found what he needed – two cloth belts from robes and two cloth belts from cardigan sweater jackets. She had decent-sized breasts for her petite size, and was waxed. He braided her long hair and loosely wrapped the braid around her neck. It wouldn't choke her…but it would excite him. He took pictures from three different angles.

Using a sweater belt, Paul tied her wrists to her knees, not tight enough to leave marks. Then he tied the two robe belts together and tied her ankles to the headboard of the bed; holding her legs up in the air. It was a stressful position for her shoulders and for her upper thighs. He took pictures of her before he applied a condom and enjoyed a hard and fast fuck while Zoe was unconscious and restrained. When he was finished, he untied her, and massaged her wrists, shoulders and thighs. He examined her, knowing the restraints did not leave lingering marks.

After the massage; he explored her flat. Her journal was not too revealing. It contained ridiculous quotes like: _Your dresses should be tight enough to show you're a woman; and loose enough to show you are a lady_. Or, _A woman's perfume tells more about her than her handwriting_. She had prepared her journal for the long summer stretch at her parents' home. Each day for the next few months was marked on a page in her journal with suggestions of places to go and things to do when she was bored to tears at her parents' home.

Zoe had no erotica in the place and her underwear selections were abysmal. He was tempted to throw all her underwear in a nearby dumpster so she had to purchase more; but it wasn't worth the effort. He found a red pen and wrote in her journal: " _Life is too short to wear boring underwear."_

He felt like having another round of sex. This time he used the robe belts to tie her knees to her chest, putting pressure on her breasts. He used one sweater belt to restrain her ankles together and the other to restrain her wrists to her ankles. Laid on her side; he took more pictures of her before he applied a condom and began another hard fuck. He wrapped her braid around his hand and used it and a hand on her hip to give him leverage. He made himself edge twice before he allowed himself to ejaculate.

Paul untied Zoe, and massaged her shoulders again. Then he began another invasion of her home, noting reading books, music, DVDs, the mail and examining the bulletin board over Zoe's roommate's desk. Concert tickets, event flyers, addresses, lists of things to do. He spotted her immediately in a picture with her family. She was short, almost buxom, with spiky black hair with red tips. She wore small gauge disks in her stretched ears. It was not a look which Paul liked.

Returning to Zoe's bedroom; Paul spotted a small suitcase under Zoe's bed. It was filled with sexy nighties and underwear, two erotica books, and sizeable vibrating dildo. He found a stripping lesson DVD, a porn movie and a pair of plastic, fur-lined handcuffs. Paul glanced at the list of things in the suitcase and realized Zoe was planning to hide her naughty things in a student storage lock-up instead of taking them home to her parents' home for the summer. He took pictures of the suitcase's contents. He took a picture of Zoe wearing the handcuffs. He helped himself to a pair of periwinkle bikini panties. He closed the suitcase and returned it to under her bed.

It would be dawn soon, and while he was tempted to see if he could achieve another erection and enjoy Zoe's body; he left her braid laying between her breasts. He sucked and grazed his teeth across her nipples to ensure they would be tender tomorrow. Then he left a hickey on her left hipbone, covered her unconscious form with a sheet, returned the belts to their original places and departed.

 **June 2003 ~~~** _ **'Between the emotion and the response, lies the Shadow,'**_ **– T.S. Elliot,** _ **The Hollow Men**_

Sally called to say thank-you, again, for the gift. Her mom insisted she write thank you notes for her graduation gifts; but she didn't know Paul's address. "I tried calling earlier, when I got off shift," she said. "But there was no answer. I started working night shifts at the hospital before I start advanced courses in the fall."

"I was out running earlier; when you called. I'm working ten-hour days for the event center before summer classes start next week. We cleaned the place from top to bottom, painted walls, scrubbed down all the moveable equipment, trimmed trees, repainted lines in the car park, etc. We cleaned out storage areas. We steam cleaned all the carpets. We're supposed to finish installing the new theatre seating in the small auditorium. I'm trying to work as many hours as possible to save money for my last year of classes. I usually work weekends while classes are in session." Paul said. "Right now; I'm taking an online course: _Advanced Readings in Psychology_. I have four summer courses, two in the morning and two in the afternoon. I run at night, after dark. It clears my head so I can sleep." He enjoyed working for the event center for the opportunities to 'people' watch.

"Run at night and early in the morning?" Sally asked. "I don't know how you do it."

"Early morning runs energize my day," he said. When he ran past homes where he sighted beautiful, professional women…; he was very observant. They failed to close their blinds completely, because they rushed to get to work. He watched them bathe and groom themselves. They failed to lock doors, close windows or set alarms because they rushed to get to work. He knew when they were between relationships. He knew when they planned to start a relationship by the shopping bags for designer lingerie stores or wine shops or home décor items they carried into their homes on weekends.

 **XXX**

Paul's next project was another brunette which he spotted at the health fair. _Project NJ: 24…kinesiology student…athletic build…cornflower blue eyes…chestnut hair…soft face…sweet smile. She should wear mid-range heels all the time, because she's ungainly in higher heels and slouches when she wears flats._

Paul broke in through a flimsy set of French doors. Her flat was decorated with ugly English Garden stencils and her grandmother's attic furniture. It also contained lots of shabby chic décor – pillows, candlesticks, tea sets, etc. – which she probably bought at boot sales. She read self-help books; mostly about how to be an artist. He took a large book of fine paintings she had used for an art appreciation class. Her diary had no interesting events scheduled. Her journal entries were hit or miss. She only wrote when she had a good day. He had no opportunity to revel in self-doubt entries. He left with a crimson red demi cup bra and matching panties after he left a black set laying on her bed with a pair of black lace-topped stockings.

 **Early July 2003 ~~~** _ **'The night keeps secrets.' –**_ **Maggie Stiefvater**

Paul spotted a potential project during an early morning run. She was practicing yoga on the patio of her home. He noted the address and was determined to discover her schedule.

 _Project CD: 24…_ _Medical Equipment Repair Technician…tiny frame…small delicate hands…creamy skin…stormy gray eyes…almost black eyelashes. She wears her hair in an angel braid every day. Her walk is purposeful…but not enjoyable to watch._

A climbable tree allowed Paul entry through an open second-story window. Her diary listed which hospital, doctor's office, clinic or dental office where she would be for the next sixty days – repairing medical equipment or installing new medical equipment. Her journal bragged she had not purchased lunch or tea for herself in six months. There was always some overly interested porter, technician, medical student, resident or doctor willing to pay for her company. She liked those lunches and teas because it was a form of speed dating for her. She only accepted second and third dates from residents or doctors.

Her journal explained she could afford to support herself; but she wanted to marry a professional man who would provide the lifestyle she wanted. She longed to travel, have a nice home, a housekeeper, a nanny and a hefty bank balance. If she was restricted to fucking one man for the rest of her life; he was going to be good-looking, physically-fit, easy to laugh and an interesting conversationalist. Additionally, he had to like traveling to new places. She would prefer a mate who didn't have mother issues, family issues or psycho siblings.

The pale grey walls of her flat provided a perfect background for the black, navy blue, deep purple and burgundy décor. Somehow the flat reflected her taste in Science Fiction books, art and DVDs. He was not surprised to see the flat colors reflected in her clothing and her lingerie. She had half a dozen robes in various lengths in plush rayon velvet. He stroked her soft panties against his face and chose a burgundy satin bikini. He laid a deep purple set on her bed with a pair of celestial blue boxers he found in her bedside table. He tucked the vibrator from her bedside table drawer into the boxers; peeking out through the flap like an excited penis.

 **Mid to Late July 2003 ~~~** ** _'How terrible it is to love something that death can touch.'_**

Paul and Sally met for coffee on most Wednesday evenings before he went to the library or computer lab and before she went to work. They met for coffee on some Sundays after he finished work for the event center, and before she went to work. After a month of intermittent coffee dates; Sally finally asked Paul to define their relationship.

"Are you gay, Paul?" Sally asked. She had the night off, and hoped to have a conversation about where their friendship was headed.

"No," he said firmly. "I may not have much experience at relationships with women, but I'm definitely not gay."

"Do you not like me?" she asked.

"I like you a great deal," he said. "I like talking to you. I like seeing you." He practiced mirroring her emotions back to her.

"I like you too. The thing is…other than a chaste kiss on my cheek; you've never kissed me. We've never been on a real date with one another…just coffee dates." Sally shrugged. "I have someone who wants to date me. If you're not interested; I'd like to feel free to accept dates with him."

Paul instantly felt loss…not like when his mother died, or when Rose walked away from him. It felt like an unfulfilled promise… something just out of his reach…like he was standing on sand shifting beneath his feet. He grabbed Sally, spun her around, and pushed her against a wall. He pinned her there with his body, wrapped his hands around the nape of her neck, his thumbs placed before her ears…and kissed her. He didn't know what to say; so, he continued to kiss her senseless.

She felt his strong body pin her against the wall and her resolve at ending the _not-quite-started_ relationship crumbled. Mum urged her to give Declan Lewis, an intern at work, a chance. However, her head and heart were filled with the sight, sound and now the taste of Paul Spector. She was mesmerized by the feel of his hard body against hers. She was enticed by his soft lips which molded perfectly to hers. When he pulled back and gazed at her, it made her heart pound. When he returned her happy smile…she completely lost her heart.

His mouth sought the hollow of her throat. He kissed it, and rasped his hot tongue over her collar bone and the hollow; grinning when he felt her shiver in his arms. "Forget the coffee; let's get a drink. In vino veritas," he said.

 _Maybe they both needed a drink to steady their nerves. He knew she expected him to take their relationship to the next level. For the first time in his life, he appreciated all the times he watched people have ordinary sex._

It took more liquid courage than either of them planned. He was buzzed; she felt no pain. "I hope you don't have high expectations," he said. "I only had one university girlfriend, and some one-night stands. Otherwise, I was too busy with classes and life."

"I've only had one short relationship in high school and one at uni. I dated a little while getting my degree; but there hasn't been anyone special for a while now. We will learn to please each other." Sally whispered.

They made it to her bed, and were in the process of stripping when Sally passed out. The thrill of an unconscious woman burned off Paul's pleasant buzz. He rationalized if she was willing to have sex with him before she passed out…then it was consensual even if she was unconscious. He trimmed her pubes so he could feel skin on skin. He used her panties to bind her wrists together, positioning them over her head. He performed a not-too-kinky missionary position, but restrained her body by sliding his hands under her back; holding onto her shoulders while he fucked hard and fast.

He examined her flat – making notes on his phone about her perfumes and bath products. Her apartment was not spotless, but was presentably tidy. She hadn't had time to do her laundry, so the hamper was stuffed, and her drawers and closet were skimpy. Mostly her undies were plain, white cotton. She had two sets of what Paul called 'date' underwear – matching sexy bra and panties. She had two short nighties with spaghetti straps, both were light purple. Her robe was a cheap, quilted purple floral print. It was ugly and needed to be burnt.

Her dressing table held two silver plate mirrored trays. One held a silver backed brush and comb with lots of hair elastics and a few hair combs and headbands. Her other tray held five perfumes with lavender. He liked the one with vanilla and the one with green tea. All of them were fresh scents. She had some makeup, but judging from graduation day; she used minimal makeup and mascara. However, she had plenty of pretty pink lip glosses. He glanced around her bedroom, and noticed a silver-plate bowl of lavender potpourri on top of her dresser, and a lavender candle on a silver-plate dish on her bedside table.

There was nothing intriguing in her bedside table – no erotica, no sex toys. Her reading materials were course books. She had a pair of white cotton gloves and hand lotion in her bedside table drawer. He reached over to touch her hand, and felt her soft, warm skin. _Uhm…skin…_

Paul turned Sally onto her front, and tucked a pillow under her abdomen. He pulled her wrists together and used her panties to restrain them again. He slipped on a condom, and spread her legs wide to slip into her. He held her hips firmly and began his second sexual assault on her body. When he exploded, he released her hands from her panties, and rubbed her shoulders. He noticed light bruises from his fingers on her shoulders…and regretted marking her during their first tryst. He left her bed, covering her with a sheet.

Paul observed her music and books. He observed how her flat was decorated. He didn't find a diary, but found a calendar from the hospital which listed her work shifts. He took a picture of it. He found a picture of her parents in a frame on the entertainment center, and two pictures of what were obviously grandparents. The frames were silver plated with three small black ribbon roses glued in corners; resembling a heart. He wondered if that meant they were deceased?

Her refrigerator held lots of salad veggies. She had three good bottles of white wine in her refrigerator, all different kinds. He wondered if they were graduation gifts from friends. Her freezer held several covered, sectioned plates of food, obviously prepared by her mother. She had a copper wire fruit basket filled with apples. She didn't have sweets in the refrigerator or cupboard.

He examined her bathroom next, and was pleased to find a box of condoms in one of the top drawers. At least she insisted on protection, but judging by the number of condoms still in the box; it had been some time since she was sexually active. She had lavender candles in the bathroom, and clear glass doors on her tub/shower unit. Her bathroom was painted a very pale purple color, with bath linens in various shades of purple. Her medicine cabinet did not hold birth control pills but she had daily vitamins, personal hygiene products and bottles of pain reliever, cold meds, etc.

It was getting late. He wondered if he should leave, but wasn't sure if he was expected to stay or not. He gathered her clothes and piled them on the hamper. He took one of her nighties and slipped it on her body. He stripped off his jeans and slid his body under the sheet with her. He moved his pictures and notes of her into a secure locked file and turned off his phone. He left a hickey on the top of her right breast and a path of hickeys from her left hipbone to her sex. Her trashcan with the two used condoms was on her side of the bed. She would see it upon awakening. He twisted and pinched a bruise on his left hipbone…hoping she would believe it was the result of her ardent mouth on his body. Paul tucked his right arm under his pillow, and closed his eyes.

A loud shriek in the morning roused Paul. He was surprised to wake and find himself alone in Sally's bed. He pulled his boxers on and stumbled into the bathroom.

"What the hell did we do last night?" Sally asked, indicating the hickey at the top of her right breast, finger grip bruises on her hipbones and shoulders, a trail of hickeys from her left hipbone to her sex… and her well-trimmed pubes.

Paul pulled his boxers off, retrieved a condom from a drawer in Sally's bathroom and climbed in the shower with her. "Sally, if you don't remember what we did last night, then we need to repeat the performance."

"Why am I trimmed," she almost whimpered.

"Because I wanted to go down on you, and you wanted to go down on me…and we needed to trim some so we could feel skin on skin. It was your idea…" He said, pointing at the bruise on his hip before his mouth moved over the jumping pulse on her neck. He slid a condom on; lifted her onto his morning erection and wrapped her legs around his hips. His hands slid behind her back to clasp her shoulders while he pinned her to the wall in the shower.

' _That explains one set of bruises. I'm going to have to dress in one of the private bathroom stalls at work, not in the locker room,'_ Sally thought before her body took over her mind. _'Oh my god, how did I forget he was so muscular and…well endowed? Holy hotness…he is strong.'_

After extremely vigorous sex, a hot shower, a good breakfast, and half a dozen hot goodbye kisses which promised a whole lot more than Paul planned to deliver…he had to leave to get to class on time.

 _Would he regret reaching for her? Was he capable of having a normal relationship…with a girl who was not his usual type? He would spend some time researching how to handle a new relationship on the internet tonight. She wouldn't drink and pass out every night. If he intended to have a 'normal' sexual relationship with her…she needed sexy lingerie to make him more interested than he really was. He also needed to utilize a few positions where they weren't face-to-face during every sexual encounter. He needed to temper the fast, energetic almost-rough sexcapades with some tender, cherishing love making._

 **The following Saturday ~~~** _ **'**_ _ **At the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman.'**_ __ **Albert Camus**

When Sally called to say she had the night off…Paul's imagination ignited. He cleaned his flat, scrubbing to almost antiseptic standards, especially his bathroom. He ran out to get two gourmet takeaway dinners and two bottles of good white wine. He bought plenty of candles, lavender-scented shampoo and lavender bubble bath. He had lavender-scented oil which he used for self-pleasure; but it would work as massage oil for Sally. He changed the sheets and ensured there were plenty of clean towels. He put romantic music in the CD player (not the blues which he enjoyed) but classical acoustic guitar CDs which Sally enjoyed.

"You are shattered," Paul noted how tired Sally was. She had the night off because she worked a double shift that day. "A hot bath, a glass of cold wine…I'll wash your hair." She let him draw a bath for her with soft, fragrant bubbles, candles, and a large glass of cold wine. He helped her strip, and get into the tub. "You want something," he said, reading her face.

"I brought my medical card and my proof of birth control," she said. "What's my reward?"

"What would you like?" He asked in a seductive voice which melted her bones.

"I'd like you to bathe with me, but I know you won't. Will you take off your shirt?" She asked.

"I will, but it won't do you any good," he teased as he slowly removed his t-shirt and then his jeans, revealing black soft cotton boxers which hung from his hips. She almost swooned from seeing his naked torso. "Close your eyes and relax. Just let me take care of you." He carefully washed her hair, and then washed every inch of her soft skin. A bottle of cold white wine, a hot bath and massage from Paul…and Sally passed out.

She would never know how hard he fucked her when she was passed out…because she woke to extremely energetic morning sex after a night of excessive drinking. She didn't care for hangover sex…but she wanted him and would never say no. Especially not since she followed his instructions. He insisted on using a condom until he could prove he was clean, and she could prove she was clean and on birth control. This morning's bare, skin-on-skin sex was more wonderful than she fantasized.

"Uhm," she said quietly, "My cycle is getting ready to start in the next day or so. I don't care for sex during my cycle; but I thought we ought to discuss it."

"I know a lot of guys enjoy cycle sex because it's a hotter, tighter feeling. I feel it is your body, and I'm honored that you share it with me. We both have boundaries. If this is one of yours, then I accept it." Paul said.

"You're not one of those guys who expects oral or anal sex while his girl is on her cycle?" Sally asked slowly.

"Do you do that?" Paul asked, unsure of what to say.

"No, but I thought we ought to cover that boundary also. I mean, the anal sex part. I'd be willing to do the oral sex while I'm on my cycle." She said softly.

"No, I don't think so," Paul said. "I think you ought to be free to wear comfortable sweats, eat chocolate, and take lots of pain relievers for cramps. And sleep with a hot water bottle instead of me."

She hugged him, nonverbally expressing her gratitude at his acceptance of her boundaries.

Bathing Sally and washing her hair would be a ritual Paul would repeat many times in the future. The romance website listed bubble baths with candles as an immediate ticket to sex. He could perform ordinary sex with her…as long as he had the opportunity for kinky sex.

 **The following Sunday ~~~** _ **'I'm an addict for underwear.'**_ **– Jennifer Ellison**

He bought Sally two weeks of matching underwear in various colors of blue. He considered how the underwear would look on Sally. The cut, the style, and how much was revealed was important; but not as important as the feel of the material on Paul's fingertips.

He enjoyed seeing Sally in better underwear choices, but they did not mean as much to him as the lingerie from his brunettes. Sally's underwear did not make him want to masturbate to relieve sexual tension. Her underwear was a means to keep him interested in ordinary sex.

Sally teased him about his sexy lingerie fetish. He hauled her to her room and laid out all the pretty lingerie he bought for her. He opened the bottle of cold white wine, and encouraged her to try on the new pile of undies. He enjoyed watching her adjust herself in suspenders and stockings in the full-length cheval mirror of her room. The bottle of wine was almost empty and Sally was a little buzzed. "Take off your bra…" he ordered and enjoyed stepping behind her, touching her while she watched. She was curvy in all the right places, and her nipples were a fleshy pink color which turned rosy pink when her nipples were excited.

"Take off your panties…leave the suspender and stockings on." He poured the rest of the wine for her…and took her to bed. Several orgasms from oral sex later…Sally complied when he turned her on her knees and took her hard and fast from behind.

She knew she needed to buy more sexy nighties. Paul asked her to keep her camisoles and sleep shorts for when she was on her cycle. Often, after vigorous morning sex; she slept in one of Paul's t-shirts, sans panties. While she loved his smell, which permeated his clothes and sheets; he was quite lusty when she wore soft, feminine nightwear. Short, silky nightgowns with matching robes were an investment in their relationship.


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own the plot or characters, or anything, from _The Fall_. I just took the characters for a dark run…

Therewill be triggers _(sexual content, moral ambiguity, violent content, unsettling dark quotes)_. It can't be helped. I do not make light of Paul Spector's actions.

 **XXX**

 **Chapter Four**

 **August 2003 ~~~** **'** _ **One of the cruelest things a person can do is awaken someone's love, without intending to truly love them.'**_

"What are you wearing?" One of Sally's coworkers asked.

"What?" Sally's muffled voice came through the scrub top she pulled on over a teal lace bra.

"Matching sexy underwear? Someone's having sex after she gets off work. Who's your hot breakfast date?" Kasie asked, curious if Sally had finally said yes to Declan.

"Paul," Sally tried to sound nonchalant.

"Graduation party Paul?" Kasie screeched. "How long have you been seeing Paul? When are you seeing Paul? You work sixty hours a week or more."

"Since June," Sally laced up her blue trainers which coordinated with her blue scrubs. "We both seem to have free time in the early mornings after I get off work and before he goes to classes or work."

"Eight weeks?" Another coworker queried. "Have you done the deed yet?"

"Two months and I'm not discussing Paul and my sex life. However. I love the way he washes my hair, runs hot bubble baths for me, serves me very good, cold white wine, and gives me a wicked massage." Sally winked.

"So…the underwear?" Kasie asked again.

"They are a present from Paul. He likes matching lingerie and thinks this color looks good on me." Sally blushed. She wasn't about to explain they were replacements. He destroyed the first set during an early morning round of sex where he was excessively energetic and she was almost lethargic from working a twelve-hour shift.

"Looks uncomfortable," Kasie remarked.

"Jealous much?" Another coworker remarked. "Sally, does Paul have any brothers, cousins, young uncles, available friends, single coworkers?"

"No," Sally said. "His supervisor is married. He says his single coworkers are all monosyllabic, depressed alcoholics. I wouldn't do that to a friend."

Her coworkers sighed. Their dating pool currently consisted of medical students, interns, residents and married doctors who had no qualms about playing doctor with the nurses. How the hell did Sally get her hands on such a hot, hard body man like Paul?

 **XXX**

"No," Paul said stubbornly. "I'm not drinking with a bunch of your coworkers. I can't have lunch with you at the hospital cafeteria without a crowd sitting with us. I'm tired of being hit on by gay guys, women who want to replace you, couples who want a three-way with me, or women with procreation on their mind. If you want to go drinking with friends, I have no problem with that, as long as you call me to give you a safe ride home."

"How about drinking with Steve and Joan. They just got engaged." Sally offered.

"Let's have dinner with them at a nice place, where we can dress up. A real adult date with wine and dancing." Paul suggested. He needed Steve and Joan's approval because he was sure Sally had not told her parents about dating him. "It would not hurt my heart if Steve or Joan took lots of pictures of us slow dancing, holding hands or kissing. Those you can share with your colleagues."

Paul knew how lucky he was to have Sally in his life. He might have resisted the thought of a relationship at first. However, her night work schedule gave him the freedom to prowl. He ensured he never looked at a brunette who worked at her hospital. He ensured he never looked at a brunette who lived in his housing complex or her housing complex. He ensured he did not stare at brunette classmates either.

 **XXX**

"You've been quite fidgety tonight," Joan commented.

"It's this damn new underwear. It's chafing me in places that are already chafed." Sally sighed.

"Go into one of the stalls, slip off your panties and run your fingers along the seams. If one of them is rough, take a fingernail file to the seam and soften it down. If there are parts sticking up, that are poking you, then use fingernail clippers to cut away the parts." Joan suggested.

Sally disappeared into a stall. Joan heard a sigh of relief; then she heard Sally rustling around in her purse. Minutes later, Sally reappeared and washed her hands.

"What did you mean by already chafed parts?" Joan asked. "Whisker burns? Overuse?"

"What is it with you and my coworkers? Do you just look at Paul and imagine what he's like in bed?" Sally shook her head.

Joan's eyes grew large. "Sally, I've gone to too many Chris Pine, Matt Bomer, and Ian Sommerhalder movies with you. I know you look at hottie men." She observed Sally's shy smile and shake of her head. "Oh god; Paul's your gold standard now, isn't he?"

Sally's enigmatic smile made Joan shake her head. "Sally, I love Steve. I'm going to marry Steve. I'm going to have his babies. When I'm too pregnant to fuck, I'm going to wake him with oral sex every morning. I want him so satisfied that he doesn't even think about the petite redhead in the paralegal pool who wears thin blouses and lacy bras. However, I'm not blind. Paul is gorgeous. You can't blame any woman for fantasizing that he kisses like Apollo, is built like David, fucks like a porn star and eats pussy like a love-starved lesbian," Joan smiled wickedly. "Of course, you didn't hear any of that from me."

"I am a lucky bitch," Sally sighed. "Let's go; the guys will wonder if we are busy making out in here."

"Talk about fantasies," Joan laughed.

 **Mid-August 2003 ~~~ '** _ **Nobody knows what anticipation is anymore. Everything is so immediate.' -**_ **Joan Jett**

 _Project ED: 24…web designer… half a dozen freckles on her button nose…grey-green eyes…hourglass figure… large natural breasts…pink puffy nipples…creamy skin. Bath has frosted window left open about three inches. Usually has fast shower in the morning. Sunday nights are bubble bath time. Always takes lunch to work; spends her lunch money on her Sunday salon days. Manicure, pedicure, body waxing, Brazilian. She is almost bare, with a tiny landing strip…_

His home invasion was interrupted by her early return from a pub night with friends. He hid in darkened rooms, making his way to her back door before he heard water running and realized she was preparing to take a bath. He returned to the upper hall of her home, hiding in the dark. Flattening himself against the wall, he watched as she bathed.

Her hair was wrapped and clipped on the top of her head, with little sweaty tendrils clinging to her neck. Her creamy skin looked lovely in the candlelit bathroom. She was seductively hidden by her bubble bath and the semi-dark room. She loitered in the steaming bubble bath, sipping a glass of wine and listening to " _Come Away With Me_ " CD by Norah Jones. When she finished her wine, she washed every inch of her creamy skin with a petal pink exfoliating net scrub which brought a rosy hue to that creamy skin. He adjusted a semi in his pants when she lifted a leg straight in the air and washed it. She tucked it back under the bubbles before she repeated the move with the other leg. It was a very Hollywood starlet gesture. Her bath was the hottest tease he had ever witnessed. When he heard her pull the plug from the tub, he left the second floor before he was discovered. He paused in the laundry room where the back door was located. He acquired primrose colored bikini panties from a basket of unfolded clean laundry.

He stopped at an all-night shop and bought a bottle of vanilla bubble bath, vanilla candles, a white exfoliating net scrub and bottle of chilled white wine. His smirk announced, " _I'm getting lucky tonight_ ," at the clerk who raised eyebrows at his purchases. Three hot bubble baths later, and with dawn fast approaching, Paul had temporarily exhausted himself physically, mentally and sexually by replaying the memory of _ED's_ bubble bath. When he wasn't bathing, he drew erotic pictures of her in her bath and used her pretty panties to satisfy his sexual appetites.

He called Sally and begged off seeing her. He claimed he had gotten wrapped up in studies and didn't sleep well or long enough. He had just finished exams for his summer classes and needed to finish his online class. She wished him good luck with his studies and blew him a kiss.

 **Early September 2003 ~~~** _ **'The idea of waiting for something makes it more exciting.' -**_ **Andy Warhol**

Sally didn't know whether to tell Paul about her pregnancy or not. She didn't plan to become pregnant, her shot failed. But would Paul abandon her if he found out she was pregnant? He was level-headed…abnormally so. She never saw him react badly from pressure, or make a hasty judgement call. She sighed. No man ever made her feel cherished like the way Paul made her feel. It would break her heart if he insisted on her getting an abortion and then walked away from her. They had not discussed children, because Paul used condoms until she proved she was on birth control.

His beautiful auburn hair and grey eyes attracted her first. Then it was his strong muscles, physique and the fact that he could fuck her for hours. He was so strong he could lift and carry her anywhere; like she was a petite little doll, and it made her knees weak. He acted with integrity and displayed exemplary manners. He never checked out another woman while he was with her. He wasn't outgoing or gregarious. He never wanted to be the center of attention. How would he react when he was the center of their baby's life?

 **XXX**

Paul laid on his bed. Sally was pregnant…and there was no doubt he was the father. _Was it a curse…or a chance to change his life?_ _How the hell do birth control shots fail?_ _What the fuck was he doing with Sally? Fitting in…acting like he was fitting in…hiding his true self with Sally as cover. Could he do it? Some men had two families…why couldn't he have two lives? He didn't believe in God…but the Fates seemed to have sent him a message._

 ** _two days later, Scotland_**

Paul enjoyed watching Sally chase waves and swim. He ran into the waves, threw Sally over his shoulder and ran deeper into the water, plunging them under the waves. She struggled against Paul until he finally let them up out of the water. She sputtered and gasped. Paul held her head and kissed her deeply, over and over until she was breathless and weakly clinging to his body.

"I'm hungry." He announced; carrying Sally back to the shore. They sat on the outdoor patio, watching the ocean while they ate. Because they couldn't swim after eating; Sally suggested they go back to their room for a rest. Their getaway allowed them time to explore one another's bodies and cement their relationship.

Sally loved when they had nothing better to do than touch and make love for hours. Paul had a way of slow, deep penetration; almost making her climax. He held himself inside her until his need and her need for release subsided and then he would begin again. His slow, complete possession of her body touched her heart and mind. He owned her, body and soul, and she would never willingly give him up. When he had finally driven her crazy with desire; he fucked her hard, fast and deep until she was breathless. Her body stilled from exhaustion before it convulsed as orgasm after orgasm ripped through her. She loved how his hard, firm body pinned her to the mattress until their breathing returned to normal.

Sally enjoyed how he held her hands while he went down on her. His strong hands holding hers, his thumbs rubbing over her knuckles. If he didn't hold her hands, he pinned her to the bed with his strong arms. She was unable to wiggle or move and it made oral sex so intense; she was almost senseless when he was done.

Paull enjoyed how she washed him in the mornings after he was sweaty from running. He enjoyed how she carefully dried his body before sucking his spine out through his cock. She didn't like him holding her head while she pleased him with her mouth, until the very end. Sally thought it was because he lost control at the last moment and couldn't restrain his enthusiasm. Paul knew it was because he needed to control her while he fucked her mouth, going hard and deep; making her gasp and choke before she swallowed on him.

When they weren't actively swimming, sleeping or having sex, they made plans. Sally refused to move in with Paul or marry him until she finished her advanced courses this semester. "This is the hardest semester I will ever have. I'm competing against three other students for the night shift assistant neonatal nurse supervisor position. It doesn't pay much more than a regular nursing position. I would attend all shift planning meetings, staffing meetings, budget meetings, etc. When the nurse supervisor is absent; I would oversee the neonatal nurses on night shift."

Paul nodded, he was listening. He was also contemplating what to do about his extra-curricular activities when he was sharing a life with Sally.

"I'm the top student. I can't be distracted. I can't allow my pregnancy to disqualify me from advancing career-wise. Plus, I'm sorry to say this…I need to use you to short circuit my classmates' brains. If they are busy plotting how to seduce you, they won't see me racing ahead in our studies." Sally said.

"How would I do that?" Paul asked.

"Have lunch with me on test days. Walk me to class. Give me a big feely kiss in front of them." Sally said.

Paul laughed. "For you…I'll do that."

After courses finished in December and before January first, Sally would move into Paul's flat. The wedding and honeymoon would occur before they started spring semester. They would turn his small home office into a nursery, finish their courses and become parents.

Paul agreed to all of Sally's plans and decisions - except he refused to have a large wedding. He explained about his mother's death, no knowledge of his real father, and his subsequent years in a foster home, and group homes. He explained he was transferred every two years or so. However, he did not tell her about his juvenile record or incarceration.

"Were you abused, Paul?" Sally asked, horrified.

"I'm not discussing that, ever." Paul stated. "I think, perhaps, losing my mother and being bounced from group home to group home is why I'm reserved."

"Reserved," Sally scoffed. "Really? Because I don't see or feel that in bed."

Paul put her over his shoulder and took her back to bed. _'Use what you know,' he thought. 'Sex distracts her questions, at least for a few hours.'_

He offered to tell her parents with her; but Sally wanted to wait. She had a respectable inheritance from her maternal grandmother and paternal grandfather. While she spent part of it on her education and living expenses; she hoped to save and increase the sum for a down payment on a house. In the meantime, she insisted on paying for Paul's spring tuition, books and fees, and for the wedding, honeymoon, and moving expenses.

She wanted to honeymoon in Tenerife for five days after they married. She researched how much it would cost for airline tickets, hotels, etc. She wanted to walk the beach and swim in the ocean. Secretly, she wanted to come back to Belfast, in the middle of winter, with a tan which would make her colleagues jealous. They would apply for their passports when they returned to Belfast.

Sally intended to take many honeymoon pictures of Paul; his swim trunks hanging off his hips, his buff body on display. She intended to get one of him in bed after sex; with his right arm tucked under his head and blankets barely covering his genitals, his left hand with his wedding ring resting on his chest. It would be fun to flaunt her wedding and destination honeymoon when classes resumed. She hoped it would divert her classmates' attention long enough to give her a scholastic advantage.

They discussed working as much as possible before the baby was born. Paul insisted Sally concentrate on her studies and her internship. She did not need to exhaust herself working shifts at the hospital. Paul would work for the event center when they needed him. Over winter break; Paul would empty his flat, shampoo carpets, paint walls, etc. to prep it for Sally to move in. He agreed to her suggestions for the flat, except he demanded extra time to install closet and cupboard organizers to utilize space.

When they returned to Belfast; Sally bought a magnetic frame for her locker door. She posted a picture of Paul in his black swim trunks, walking out of the ocean. If asked, she explained it was from their vacation in Scotland. It gave her coworkers pause. A vacation together meant Sally was serious about Paul and perhaps the feeling was returned.

 **XXX**

With Sally moving into his flat and the need to turn his small office into a nursery, Paul approached the complex manager and asked to rent a small 6x8 storage unit in the basement. One with electricity was available. He paid for it for fifteen months, so the charge would not appear on the monthly rent statement. The cement floor and the cinder block walls would deaden any noise he made in the unit. The basement storage units were available by stairs from the lobby or from an outside door which opened with a key. When he was on the prowl, he could enter and leave by the outside door. He could change in the storage unit. It would just be a matter of watching his entrances and exits. He purchased a baby monitor. He could hide the transmitter in the hallway when he entered the storage unit. With the receiver in the storage unit, he could hear if someone was in the hallway before he exited.

When Sally spent one of her free nights at her parents, Paul emptied his locked home office closet. Journals, pictures and illustrations were in one locked, large suitcase. Souvenirs were in another. His mannequin was disassembled and put in the storage box to travel to the storage unit. He bought a student desk and chair from the local charity shop. With the door closed and locked behind him; he reassembled his mannequin and placed her in her chair in the corner of the room. His prowling backpack hung off a hook on the wall. His black prowling clothes were folded and on a small set of shelves under the backpack.

Paul hid the outside door key and unit key in a magnetic key hider on the back of his water tank. Sally would never find them there. He moved his current composition book, lock of hair, and six favorite pairs of panties to the top desk drawer in the storage unit. He stored his blank composition books and extra art supplies in the bottom desk drawer. Sally would not see what he did not want her to see. The storage unit was not the most convenient hiding place; but it was the best option for now.

With his storage unit assembled, he stopped to play. He used wet wipes to give his mannequin a head-to-toe wash. He spent good money on her, buying the best mannequin he could afford. If anyone had discovered it, he would explain it was used for his art courses. It had perky breasts, defined nipples and vaginal mound, with shapely defined butt cheeks. It had long fingers, with a French manicure and shapely legs. The toes had a French manicure. Once he wiped it down, he brushed the human hair wig and put it on the mannequin. Once it was assembled; Paul thought of the mannequin as a her…female…pleasing shape and form. He enjoyed dressing and undressing his mannequin, posing her, and drawing in his composition book. When he had an erection; he enjoyed using the lingerie on the mannequin to sate his sexual desire. Then he began dressing and undressing her again, and drawing in his composition book until he was aroused. Sometimes he wished he could bind and restrain Sally like his mannequin. However, she started wearing better underwear, she performed oral sex, and she didn't demand expressions of his love every day.

 **XXX**

 _Project HF: 24…graphic artist…carries herself like model. Small hands, well-manicured nails. Oval face…powder blue bedroom eyes. Never wears jeans. Always nicely dressed, even when shopping or running errands on weekends. She wanders the St. George's Market during Saturday lunch time…trolling for a date? She never engages in conversations with men her own age…but actively converses with men in their late thirties and early forties._

Her flat, in a remodeled Victorian house, was decorated in antiques, first edition books and vintage vinyl. Examination of her desk, diary and journal explained her living situation. Her mother was married to an older business man who insisted on providing a college education and decent living situation for his stepdaughter. She was a regular guest at his business dinners; acting as eye-candy for single, unattached men.

Paul acquired a pair of water lily green satin and lace French cut briefs. He also acquired three vintage vinyl blues records.

 **XXX**

Sally bought Paul a good secondhand laptop with carry bag and a printer. She convinced him it was necessary for his classwork during this busy last year, rather than spending excessive hours at the library or campus computer labs. Truth be told; she didn't like when he was in computer lab and couldn't answer the phone. She also didn't want female students watching him. Her classmates eye-fucked him every opportunity they had.

 **XXX**

"Test day?" Paul whispered in Sally's ear.

"Yes," she smiled at him. "Thank you for taking me to lunch and for walking me to class."

"You want more, don't you?" He teased.

"I need one of those up-against-the-wall, kiss-me-until-I'm-senseless kisses." She said breathlessly.

"You want to short circuit their brains before the test?" Paul pulled her in for a hug, closing his eyes and resting his cheek on her head. He felt her nod. "A kiss for luck then…" he pushed her against the wall by the classroom. He pinned her to the wall with his strong body, and wrapped his hands around the nape of her neck. He positioned his thumbs at her ears and tilted her face to meet his. Then he began a slow, leisurely assault of her lips and her mouth. When he felt her body go limp against him, he ended the kiss. "Are you sure I didn't short circuit your brain before the test?" He whispered in her ear.

"I can't run off to play right now, Paul," she announced to a very watchful and listening audience. "I have to go to class."

"I'll see you tonight then," he said, acting like he was adjusting his pants as he pulled away from her. He winked…and she smiled. His public display of affection almost always guaranteed Sally scored at least ten points higher than her classmates on their tests.

 **October 2003 ~~~** _ **'Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.'**_ **– Mark Twain**

 _Project RS: 24…slender build…straight dark brown hair with red-gold highlights…_ _Alaskan Husky blue eyes._ _She wore a pale blue silk shirt, charcoal grey pencil skirt, light grey raincoat with a matching umbrella and grey pumps._

She rode the bus, talking quietly on her mobile to her mother, guaranteeing she would be home this weekend for a family event. She gave her mother the address for her new flat; explaining it was only a one-bedroom flat in an older complex near the campus. She told her mom about meeting with her campus mentor. She brought her portfolio of industrial designs she created over the summer and expressed a hope her mentor could find her an internship while she completed advanced studies.

Paul followed her from a building on campus to a hotel. He wondered who she was meeting there until she climbed the stairs to an open-air restaurant and pub located on the roof. She ordered a dirty martini. The bartender seemed to know her and commiserated on the lousy day she was having. Paul sat at a table near the demi wall where he could observe her and observe the street. He ordered a sandwich and nursed a beer. He blew off his afternoon classes. She sipped her martini, waved off the offer of another, and told the bartender she was cleaning and unpacking this afternoon. He was prepared to follow her; but was surprised when she entered a building behind the pub.

The bar gave him a perfect view into her flat. She left drapes on her balcony door and bedroom window open while she unpacked. He pulled out his computer and pretended to research a paper for one of his classes. He enjoyed her tight jeans and the rock t-shirt which molded her breasts beautifully. She plaited her hair and began emptying boxes. She paused occasionally to sketch before she returned to unpacking.

The tiny flat was about 700 feet; kitchenette against the hall wall, breakfast bar separating it from the lounge. The bathroom was located on the hall wall and at the top of the bedroom. She decorated with charity shop furniture which had been painted with black or hot pink enamel paint. He enjoyed watching her unpack her clothes and put things away in the nine-drawer dresser. He really liked the pretty lemon-yellow bra and panties which had orange appliques, lace and ribbons. He would take them when the opportunity presented itself.

By the end of the day, he had to go, but he saw where RS hid a key to the balcony door and observed she didn't use any track blockers for her sliding door or windows. Noting the pub hours, he created an elaborate plan to gain access to her flat. The outdoor pub closed for the season in mid-October. One, no watchers; two, eliminate the street light; three, eliminate the balcony light; four, break and enter; five, capture the yellow and orange underwear; six, research industrial designer – what is that?

 **November 2003 ~~~** _ **'Life begins at night.' –**_ **Charlaine Harris** _ **, Dead Until Dark**_

Paul met his next project at the bank. _Project_ _AG: Maybe 24-25…bank teller, but takes statistical analysis courses. What are her career goals? Peach-hued blush…chocolate eyes…brandy highlights …long fingers with a natural peach and white French manicure… apricot pencil skirt…pale peach blouse…about five feet three inches…is her underwear a peach hue…does she wear stockings instead of pantyhose?_

He had to follow her…learn where she lived…learn how she lived. It took a week of covert surveillance to learn her schedule. He broke in, via a wonky window on the second floor, while she was gone to night class. Sally thought he was at a mandatory study group, and would not be available to see her tonight.

He read _AG's_ journal, which intrigued him. She was embarrassed because her last boyfriend made a sex video of them. Paul found the sex DVD in her bedside table drawer. Normally, he wouldn't care about people having ordinary sex; but he had to know why this embarrassed her so much. He accessed her DVD player.

 _"Do you want this?" The guy stood behind her. He was wearing black silky boxers. She was naked, facing the open window in her bedroom. She shivered a little in the night breeze._

 _"Yes, I want this," She said._

Paul enjoyed watching the boyfriend tie a blindfold over her eyes. He acquired the DVD, leaving a bookmark in her journal where she mentioned it. He also acquired a sexy, gossamer thin, white thong with lace applique flowers in appropriate modest places. It appeared to be new; or maybe she just saved it for special occasions. It was the tiniest thong he had ever seen. He took a picture of the set of black underwear he left laying on her bed.

He enjoyed the sex DVD. She was willing to play - light bondage and blindfolded - lots of rough, kinky, no-holds-barred sex in various positions. It must have been an all-weekend party for them. Paul didn't understand why she was so embarrassed about the DVD. After all, what someone does in their bedroom is their business. She gave her consent and eagerly participated. He kept the DVD; it excited him. He could keep it in the storage unit for a while.

 **XXX**

While Sally wanted to 'care' for her man; Paul insisted she not fuss over him. He was capable of cleaning, cooking and doing his own laundry. She had enough to do, with classes and having a healthy pregnancy. He was folding his laundry when Sally arrived unexpectedly before going home after class. She wanted to measure the small bedroom so she could plan for the nursery.

She saw the tiny white thong in his laundry basket and almost lost her shit. He explained it was not left over from his bachelor days. He suggested it must have been left in one of the washers or dryers in the basement laundry room. She snatched it up with a pair of tongs and dropped it down the incinerator. Her jealousy fueled her passion, and he used lots of energetic, needy sex to placate her.

 **December 2003 ~~~** _ **'In the darkness before dawn'**_ **– Coldplay,** _ **Midnight**_

Paul knew his prowling would soon be curtailed by comingling Sally and his life. Exams were coming. Christmas break was coming and it would be non-stop merging their lives. But, until then, he found a new project. A week of surveillance meant he knew her schedule. He tried to break in three different times while she was out; but she set the alarm on her house. When frustration urged him to find a new project, she went out drinking with friends and not only did not set the alarm, she left the back door unlocked. He really enjoyed those lucky moments of his life.

 _Project CS: 24…3D graphic artist for an architectural firm…hazel eyes…long layered hair…lithe… decent-sized breasts… long lovely neck… excellent carriage…even stride which causes her hips to sway…3D prints as hobby…sells items on website…owns board games…reads art magazines… likes music which has deep percussive sounds…_

Her home was tidy; decorated with assemble-your-own furniture and bland, cream walls. She decorated with architectural photographs in sepia tones on her walls. Her diary was busy with classes and work. Her journal was a tracking device: weight, water consumption, calories consumed, exercise routine, etc. He laughed aloud when he read her calculations that 30 minutes of reverse cowgirl position burnt off the calories in a large apple. He photographed quirky comments like that in her journal.

Her bedroom had a dark espresso laminate floor with a feminine cream and gold scrolled area rug. The queen-sized bed was located between two windows which had chocolate drapes. The crown moldings were visually interesting. The bed was covered in a cream damask comforter, with cream bed linens with a gold gilt mirror hung over it. She had a ridiculous number of throw pillows on the bed, in textured gold-colored fabrics. Unless she needed those pillows for various sexual positions, he saw no use for them. The attached ensuite was decorated in cream with gold bathroom accessories. He took several pictures of her bedroom.

 _CS_ owned matching underwear including bras, panties, slips, camisoles, suspenders and stockings in cream, beige, buff, khaki, tan, sand, taupe, rosy brown, mocha, chocolate, and coffee colors. She had silky sleep shirts, sheer baby doll nighties, spaghetti strap short nighties and teddies for sleeping. Most of the clothes in her closet were brown with some golds, yellows and dark greens. She had a soft chocolate brown cashmere jacket and a soft copper-colored silk shirt. He enjoyed feeling those and stroking them across his cheeks.

 _CS_ donated the set of rosy brown lingerie to Paul's collection: camisole, demi bra, boyshorts, suspender and rosy brown lace-topped nude stockings. He stole her chocolate brown suede peep toe shoes for his mannequin also. He enjoyed drawing pictures of _CS_ in seductive poses wearing the lingerie ensemble. He spent his free time, while Sally was at her internship, dressing and redressing his mannequin in his favorite lingerie, posing it and drawing pictures. He finally left the mannequin dressed in the rosy brown lingerie with the chocolate brown peep toes.

He realized his composition project books needed to be condensed like his brunette brides. Odd pages would hold a picture of the project with descriptive text on the back.

While Sally was at her internship hours, Paul photographed important pictures and passages from composition books. He dropped them to a CD which he hid in the storage unit. Eventually, if he wanted, he would print them and paste them into composition books. He shredded almost two dozen composition books…putting the shreds at the bottom of his trash can. He cleaned out the refrigerator and visited the dumpster.

 **XXX**

Paul purchased a light sea green, thin satin maternity sleep shirt with a matching robe for Sally as his personal Christmas gift to her. However, he purchased a pretty aquamarine necklace and earrings for her to open at Christmas at her parents. He settled on a pearl bracelet for her wedding gift which she could wear with her graduation pearls. Paul purchased a special peignoir and two weeks of maternity nightgowns and sleep shirts for Sally. He purchased two weeks of matching maternity bra and panty sets for Sally also.

Since Sally wanted to spend Christmas with her parents, he purchased two excellent bottles of white wine, a hand-held poker game with charger for John, and a set of clear crystal vases (bud, stem and bouquet) for CC. She could put some of the flowers from her garden in them. He stopped at a wrapping table run by a women's church auxiliary group, and paid to have his purchases wrapped. He paid extra for gift tags and completed one for each of the gifts.

While waiting for his items to be wrapped, Paul bought lunch and 'people' watched. A brunette, wearing jeans and a dark blue one-shoulder sweater, interested him...until she was joined by an off-duty police officer. The man enjoyed putting his arm around her and resting his hand on her bare shoulder. Brunette two wore a crimson red sweater dress with knee-high black boots. He enjoyed how the sweater dress clung to her curves…until she greeted a man with two toddler boys. A third brunette caught his eye when she left the lingerie store where he had shopped. He stopped wondering what was in her shopping bag when she linked arms with a man and whispered naughty things in his ear, which made him blush. A fourth brunette caught his eye before she went into a pet store with a friend. She emerged eventually with a white furry cat in a cat carrier and a stuffed bag of cat accoutrement. A fifth one intrigued him until she turned sideways to peer at something in a toy shop window. She glowed, like Sally, and spoke quietly while rubbing her swelling abdomen.

He did not notice the sixth brunette until she flipped the hood off a fleece jacket and smoothed her hair which clung to it via static. She sat sedately on a bench, checked her mobile, and folded her hands in her lap. She did not fidget. She quietly observed the crowd around her, and finally rose when she was approached by a man. He offered his arm and escorted her to the coffee court. She was petite and barely came to his shoulder. He seated her before buying coffee for them. Paul thought it might be a first date...they were obviously interested in one another _. Did he and Sally act like that when they had coffee dates? He could not remember._

The church ladies did an excellent job of wrapping his gifts. He paid their fee and included a handsome tip. He explained he was a future son-in-law. They assured him; he had chosen excellent gifts for his new in-laws. He left the mall, feeling confident. _He could do this…he could be a skilled lover and kind husband for Sally; a good father for his child; and a respectful son-in-law_.

He researched tips on getting along with your in-laws, and how to avoid uncomfortable scenes during holiday celebrations. Then he enjoyed a hot shower which brought his blood up to his skin and played for hours with his lock of hair and some of his favorite lingerie while writing and drawing in his composition book. Before morning, when Sally might appear, he hand laundered the panties, towel dried them, taking them and his composition book and lock of hair to the storage unit.

 _He could do this also…keep his private life private from his future wife and the world._

 **December 16, 2003 ~~~ '** _ **Waiting for darkness, doesn't anybody see?' –**_ **Ozzy Osbourne** _ **, Waiting for Darkness**_

Day one of winter break, Sally took Paul shopping for new furniture for the flat. She wanted a new lounge set, new bedroom suite, a dinette set, nursery furniture and of course, the washer and dryer. His things were all packed and stored in the empty washer/dryer closet where they would bother no one. Paul took a duffel bag of clothes to Sally's where he would stay until his flat was emptied and cleaned and the new furniture delivered.

Sally assumed he had women in his bed before her. She could not bear sleeping in it after they were married. They purchased a queen-sized captain's bed. He inspected the beds and selected the unit with nine drawers on each side. If she worried about being able to get into bed, there was a staircase which recessed out of the way in a storage area at the end of the bed. He agreed to let Sally have the nine-drawer dresser, and the nine drawers on her side of the bed; while he used the drawers on his side of the bed. He insisted they buy large nightstands because he wanted the bookshelf and drawers. Her matching dressing table and the dresser would be placed on her side of the bed. His side of the bed would be closest to the closet and the door. When she wanted to buy naff accessories for the bedroom, he refused to allow it. He agreed to a large plain framed mirror for above the bed to reflect light into the room. He agreed to matching lamps for the nightstands. He refused to let her clutter what little available space they had.

Once the flat was stripped bare, the carpet shampooed, the walls painted and windows washed; the furniture was delivered and set up. Paul purchased new drapes and bed and bath linens in coffee and cream. Sally had chosen everything else, including chocolate throw pillows and drapes for the lounge. The bed and bath linens were his choice. He selected high thread count bed and bath linens, because they felt good against his skin.

Sally purchased a comfortable lounge set and a large ottoman, which was also a storage center. She purchased three armories, one for a home office for Paul, one for an entertainment center and one for a sewing/crafting/home office for her. The entertainment armoire held Sally's nearly new flat screen TV, DVD player and CD player. It held Paul's stereo and vinyl blues collection, plus all their CDs, and DVDs. The lounge was not cluttered, but there was no space to spare. Against the wall by the master bedroom, Sally added three bookcases, two for Paul and one for her.

 **XXX**

Sally teased Paul about his obsessive-compulsive ways. He installed high-end closet organizers and cupboard organizers throughout the flat. Some guys simply had baskets of clothes which never touched a hanger or a dresser drawer unless a woman put them away. Paul did his own laundry, folded his clothes and hung his clothes.

He folded bed and bath linens meticulously, and stored them in the linen closet. He kept extra bath and toiletry supplies on hand. The refrigerator was clean, and well organized. The cupboards were well organized and held thirty days of canned and dry products. Sally knew if she displaced something in the flat; it would irk Paul until it was properly put away. He reminded her about their tight living quarters which needed to stay clean and organized.

Once Sally moved her items to Paul's flat, they spent a day packing up her old flat. She filled the trunk of her car with boxes to take to her parents' farm. Once her excess furniture, household furnishings, etc. were donated to charity, Paul insisted she rest. He gladly paid flat cleaners so her last task was returning her keys and signing off paperwork.

Sally had the nursery items delivered: a crib (which morphed into a toddler bed and eventually a twin bed), dresser, lamp, changing table (which morphed into a storage unit), a rocking chair, a small bookcase and a toy chest. Paul assembled furniture and placed it where Sally wanted. Paul was adamant about decorating the nursery. Sally could decorate in creams and greens to coordinate with the rest of the flat. However, the room would not be pink for the baby girl they were expecting.

The washer and dryer arrived and were installed in the closet by the kitchen. Now they could do their laundry without having _some slut's miscellaneous panties_ showing up.

 **XXX**

Sally learned a few things about her man before they married. When she attempted to use sex to manipulate him; Paul shut down and Sally received no physical contact (other than chaste kisses and hugs) from Paul for days. He explained he was not a teenage boy who could be led around by his cock. She learned he could be intractable. He would not discuss his childhood or parents. He became even more taciturn when people asked intrusive questions. However, he came home one day with a framed picture of him when he was ten. Sally cherished it and put it on her dresser.


	5. Chapter 5 A

I do not own characters or plotlines from _The Fall_. I have taken them for a dark run…

There will be triggers _(sexual content, moral ambiguity, violent content, unsettling dark quotes)_. It is necessary to advance the story. I do not make light of Paul Spector's actions.

 **XXX**

 **Chapter Five**

 **Christmas 2003 ~~~ '** _ **You can't always get what you want**_ **.' – Rolling Stones**

Sally brought a Christmas stocking to bed and gave it to Paul. "Merry Christmas!"

Paul opened one eye and gave her a look. "What's that?"

Sally laughed. "Didn't you ever have a Christmas stocking?"

"Uh, no…" he said.

"Well, you will from now on," she said. "It's a tradition in my family. You wake up and find a stocking on the end of your bed. You open the things in the stocking while staying in bed. I think it gave my mom and dad time to make coffee and wake up." She handed Paul a cup of French roast coffee and set her green tea on the nightstand on her side of the bed. She picked up another stocking and crawled back in bed with Paul.

Paul took a sip of his coffee. "Okay, so how do I do this?"

"I'm terrible…I don't take one thing at a time out of my stocking. I dump it out and sort through it." Sally admitted.

"I suggest one thing at a time…since I didn't buy anything for your stocking and you already know what's in it." Paul said. "Ladies first."

Sally pulled out a purple travel portfolio. "To hold my passport and important documents for Tenerife." Paul's travel portfolio was black. They pulled travel items out of their stockings, toothbrush holders, toiletry bottles, a mini sewing kit for Sally, a mini shoe polish kit for Paul, collapsible water bottles and luggage tags. In the toe of the stocking was an orange. Paul looked at it with amazement.

'I am wrong," he said. "The foster home where I lived after my mother died – we had Christmas stockings with an orange in the toe – hung off the end of our beds. We got a new comb and toothbrush, a toy, a peppermint stick and an orange. I was there for my eighth and ninth Christmas." He set about peeling his orange carefully in a continuous spiral. When he finished peeling it; Sally shook her head.

"I learn something new about you all the time," She kissed his face softly and handed him her orange. "I want to see you do that again."

"It's nothing special," he protested.

"Yes, it is," she laughed. "My oranges are usually peeled in patches. I would not have the patience to peel it like that."

 **XXX**

After Christmas dinner and opening presents, Sally announced her and Paul's engagement and wedding plans. CC and John asked them to wait to marry in June. They cited the need for Sally and Paul to finish classes. They also wanted time to plan and invite a crowd instead of a quick wedding within eleven days. Sally explained the quick and private wedding would be followed by a grandchild in April.

She had spoken to her professors and would complete as many advanced practicum hours as possible before the baby was born, and finish any remaining hours after the baby was born. It was Paul's last semester. He was taking six three-credit courses and as many online courses as he could finish before May first. He needed to work weekends for the event center, so he would not take any seminars. He would have nights and intermittent weekends with Sally and the baby until she finished her practicum hours. He hoped she would be offered the night shift neonatal nurse assistant supervisor position. She wanted it so much.

When John and CC were furious because Paul had not married Sally the minute he learned she was pregnant...Sally informed them it was her decision to wait. He took them to Scotland to elope; but it was not what she wanted. She explained she and Paul were a team; he supported her goal to become a neonatal nurse. Never, she claimed, had she been more understood or supported by a significant other the way Paul supported her plans and dreams.

"Paul has no one," she said. "Our wedding, like our marriage, will be personal. just the two of us. Our friends, Steve and Joan, will be our attendants. Dad and you will be our only guests. We can host a wedding dinner at a nice venue, with a gourmet meal, good wine or champagne and dancing. Paul and I are spending our wedding night at the Hilton and then we'll go away for five days to Tenerife. I've already moved into his flat, and have given up mine." She gave them the new address and directions on how to find it.

CC always wished for a doctor for her daughter; John always wished for a son-in-law to watch sports with him and to help on the farm during crunch times. They were getting a polite, reserved young man who their daughter loved beyond reason. Both sent silent prayers to God that Paul would never break Sally's heart. Then, after dark, in the privacy of their bedroom, they discussed their reservations regarding Paul. CC bemoaned the fact that they should have tried to separate the couple after Sally's graduation.

 **XXX**

"I have another Christmas present for you," Paul handed Sally a wrapped package. "It's not something you could open in front of your parents; unless I wanted your father to give me a black eye." He had given her the aquamarine necklace and earrings set at her parents' house.

"I have another Christmas present for you," Sally handed Paul a wrapped package. "It's not something you could open in front of my parents; unless I wanted Mum to give me a lecture on decency and propriety." Sally had given Paul a new black leather billfold and a sectioned cherry wood valet for the top of his nightstand to open at her parents' house. It would hold his wallet, mobile, keys and anything else he kept in his pockets. She purchased Polo cologne and a grey silk tie for her parents to give to Paul. They were surprised when Sally dropped off the presents a few days before Christmas, and announced she was bringing a guest for dinner.

She opened the sea green sleep shirt and he opened a set of black silk pajamas for men. "I think we have to try these on," Paul winked at her. "We can have a lie in since you are all moved in and we're settled."

 **January 4-5, 2004 ~~~** **'** _ **We need the sweet pain of anticipation to tell us we are really alive**_ **.' – Albert Camus**

Marriages on Sunday were very rare in Ireland. Paul and Sally did not want to attend marital counseling with John and CC's vicar. He disapproved of marriages on Sunday. He conspired with CC to urge the couple to move the wedding to Monday – which would not do as Paul and Sally were departing Monday before noon for Tenerife. They would return Saturday after the wedding and begin classes on Monday.

Sally found a judge who was willing, for a price, to come to the Hilton Hotel and marry the couple in the honeymoon suite at 4:30 on Sunday. The judge understood Paul's father was Jewish and his mother was Catholic. Although they were both dead, Paul preferred a civil ceremony to avoid religious issues. Sally agreed with him, although her parents were Protestants.

Sally and Joan had a spa day on Saturday, getting massages, manicures and pedicures, body waxing, facials, etc. They both had hair appointments on Sunday. While Joan spent the night at the Hilton with Sally; Steve insisted on taking Paul to a strip club for his last evening as a single man. Paul plied Steve with plenty of drinks and half a dozen lap dances. Paul nursed a beer and a shot of whiskey, and allowed Steve to buy him a lap dance with a petite blonde who would not interest him or cause him complications. At the end of the evening…Paul put Steve in a cab and sent him to the Hilton. Joan was warned to grab him at the front desk and put him to bed in the room Sally arranged for Joan and Steve.

Paul went back to the flat, and spent his pre-wedding night playing with his mannequin, drawing in his composition books, and sexually satisfying himself with souvenirs. He especially enjoyed the lemon and orange set, the crimson set, and the primrose silk tap panties. He especially enjoyed playing with the lock of brunette hair. He washed and dried his souvenirs and put them away, knowing he would return at the first opportunity.

 **XXX**

Joan helped Sally dress in the honeymoon suite. Sally wore a cream tea-length lace dress, with a boxy jacket which hid her swelling abdomen. Her naturally wavy strawberry blonde hair was held in a French twist and she wore a cream fascinator with veil. She borrowed a gold and pearl hatpin from her mother. It belonged to one of CC's great-grandmothers. Sally carried a small bouquet of creamy orchids and blush pink roses. She carried an Irish linen handkerchief embroidered by her great-grandmother Goodall. She wore a porcelain horseshoe pin with a fresh sprig of lavender on her dress, beneath her jacket. Paul gave Sally the pearl bracelet to wear with her graduation pearls.

Paul gathered his suitcase and his backpack for Tenerife, and his wedding clothes. He went to the Hilton to hang out in Steve's room until the wedding. Paul gave his best man a monogramed silver flask. He asked Steve not to use it until after the wedding. Paul and Steve ordered a good breakfast and watched sports until it was time to dress. Paul wore a new charcoal grey suit with his grey silk tie from Christmas. He wore a white shirt, the black leather belt and black shoes from his wedding catering days. Sally gave him a silver tie tack, cufflinks and watch as his wedding gift. John joined Steve and Paul, bringing boutonnieres of blush pink baby rose buds with greens for all the men. He took Paul's luggage up to the honeymoon suite.

Paul researched romantic gestures for new grooms. He could do the special gifts during the honeymoon; but he wasn't about to quote Shakespeare at the wedding. When Paul kissed Sally's wedding band after he put it on her finger, and then his wedding band when she slid it on his finger; CC and Joan almost swooned. Then when Paul reverently kissed Sally after their vows; John and CC felt better about the situation. Paul acted like a gentleman and treated Sally well. Their daughter, their only child, was happy, married and about to make them grandparents. John and CC accepted their taciturn son-in-law with minimal reservations. He was one-hundred percent different from every other boy/man Sally had ever dated.

Sally arranged for a gourmet dinner to be delivered to the honeymoon suite for the six of them. CC and John arranged for both champagne and sparkling apple cider for wedding toasts in the suite. CC arranged for a traditional wedding cake for Paul and Sally. It was a two-tier fruitcake, an eight-inch layer with a six-inch layer. Sally could only have a bite of it because it was aged with Irish whiskey. It had white frosting with sugar bells and sugar lavender blossoms. After the ceremony, dinner, cake, champagne, blessings and toasts, Sally and Paul shooed their guests out the door.

 **XXX**

When Paul helped Sally strip for the night in their honeymoon suite at the Hilton, he was pleasantly surprised by her choice of cream satin and silk underwear. She wore a basque and panties, suspender and lace topped stockings. He reverently carried her to their bed, removed the panties and employed his _almost-all-night_ sex techniques. Before dawn, he helped her remove her remaining underwear and put on a silk cream colored spaghetti strap nightie with a matching robe. He took her hairpins out, brushed her hair, and braided it for sleep.

 **January 6, 2004 ~~~ '** _ **Marry when the year is new, always loving, kind and true.'**_ **– Irish saying**

Breakfast in bed, followed by a hot shower, and preparing to depart for Tenerife took most of the morning. Paul gave Sally a present, an MP3 player filled with love songs, so she had something to listen to on the plane. It meant he could sleep on the almost five-hour flight to Tenerife.

However, Paul did not sleep on the plane. He kept one eye slightly cracked open so he could watch the brunette flight attendant as she walked up and down the aisle, waiting on people. She was in her mid-twenties with shoulder length brunette hair. She wore a navy pencil skirt which exhibited her toned legs. She wore two-inch navy pumps. Her navy and white checked blouse molded to her perky breasts. Her navy scarf, tied around her neck, intrigued Paul. It was a decent length, and he fantasized about using it to tie her hands together, or using it as a blindfold, or using it as a gag. He 'became' alert when she approached to take their drink order. Paul gazed into her violet-blue eyes, noticing them dilate when she took his order. He noticed her natural French manicure nails and her graceful hands. He felt her soft skin when he took his bottle of water from her. Sally did not exhibit her usual jealously because Paul was careful to smile at Sally and kiss her wedding ring. "I can't wait to get you alone in the hotel," he whispered in her ear. He was awarded with a brilliant blush.

Sally arranged for them to have a wonderful room with an ocean view. After they checked in, they ate a late lunch at the hotel's sidewalk café and looked over the list of events and activities offered by the hotel. After lunch, they returned to the hotel room, for some afternoon sex and a good nap until early evening. They swam until dusk; ate dinner at a sidewalk café; and attended a street dance until midnight.

"Sally," Paul said softly while gently washing her in the shower. "I want to go down on you." He kissed her hipbones and chuckled at her wiggle. "Reach up and hold onto the shower head. You know I don't like having my head or face touched while I engage in oral sex."

His voice melted her resistance. She closed her eyes and spread her legs, letting him do what he wanted to her. The feel of his hand stroking her was overwhelming. She could not wiggle when one of his strong arms encircled her hips after his mouth and fingers began a slow, leisurely seduction of her sex. Her body responded to his mouth while his fingers circled and stroked inside her…pushing her into a gasping, breathless frenzy as she came for him. He didn't stop until her knees were weak, and she wanted him hard, fast and deep to ease the ache her body felt for him.

He stood and grasped her head, his tongue hard and exploratory in her mouth while he held her against his hard body. "I left a present for you on the sink top," Paul whispered in Sally's ear. "Please wear it to bed for me."

"Beautiful," he kissed her over and over when she exited the bathroom wearing the aqua peignoir. "Thank you for this honeymoon. Thank you for the small wedding."

"It meant so much to you," she murmured. "Thank you for agreeing to wait. It was less stressful for the baby and me to wait. I finished last semester with top honors. I admit, it was easier to plan a small wedding followed by a destination honeymoon. Of course, everyone will know when we return to Belfast with wedding rings and tans."

"Are you sure they don't suspect?" Paul asked.

"They all think I'm getting fat and you're going to throw me over for someone else; hopefully one of them," she sighed.

"I'll tell you what's fat," he kissed her. "Fat chance I'm throwing you over for anyone else. Sally, I'm a man…I wanted a kind, loving woman. I love your curves. Tell them you're pregnant or don't tell them. It's not their business. They don't get approval or disapproval rights in our life. Speaking of approval, I really like this peignoir."

"Imagine that," Sally smiled.

"I have two weeks of sexy silk and satin lingerie in colors which I think will suit you – sea colors in blue, turquoise and green; and sunset colors in rose, peach and purple. Lovely silk sleep shirts, and spaghetti strap nighties with matching robes. There are also matching bra and panty sets…" He stripped off her robe and carried her to bed, rubbing his naked body against the thin satin gown, exciting himself. His firm body pinned her to the bed and at her urging, he gratified them with hard, energetic sex.

"You're going to give me a complex," Paul said, spooning with Sally, stroking her hair and murmuring quietly to her. "I'm not sure having a crying woman in my bed is good for my ego." He clasped her in his arms, spooning with the soft warmth of her body.

"The baby hormones give the whole 'fuck me to tears' expression a new meaning," Sally said, struggling to calm her ragged breathing.

"Rocked your world, did I?" Paul smiled against her hair. _Yes, he could do this. He could be a normal husband. While ordinary sex didn't do much for him; it was helpful at silencing questions and doubts from Sally._

 **January 2004 ~~~ '** _ **Let us step into the unknown with smiles on our faces. Even if we are faking them.'**_

They returned to Belfast with excellent memories of restaurants, street dances, swimming in the ocean, playing on jet skis, jeep tours, and passionate mornings and nights in their hotel room. They returned to Belfast with fabulous tans and gold wedding bands which no one could miss. Paul's final honeymoon gift was a cream lace and beribboned small photo album which would fit in Sally's purse. It would hold 48 pictures from the wedding and honeymoon – a bridal brag book to show off to family, friends, classmates and coworkers.

"Wait," Paul said to Sally when they returned to the flat. He put their luggage on the sofa. He returned to the hall and swung Sally up into his arms and carried her across the threshold. "Welcome home, Mrs. Spector," he kicked the door shut behind him. She giggled as Paul carried her to their bedroom and laid her on the bed. "Just a word of warning, Mrs. Spector, we're breaking in every room of our flat before we return to classes. Every possible position on every possible piece of furniture." First, he claimed her mouth…then he claimed her body three times before the sun rose the next morning.

Sally never knew which Paul she would encounter during sex. Energetic Paul provided fast and hard sex which left Sally breathless. Tender Paul could fuck for hours, denying them orgasms until the last moment. Their climaxes were so intense, Sally swore she was senseless for hours afterward. Attentive Paul washed Sally's hair, every inch of her skin and made her feel cherished when he ensured she experienced pleasure several times before he did. Adventurous Paul taught her new sex positions. Exhibitionist Paul liked fucking in the ocean, on the balcony of their hotel room or with the window blinds open at their flat. Almost getting caught was an aphrodisiac for him. Patient Paul made Sally wait for her pleasure. He began a leisurely seduction when they woke, and made her almost insane with lust as the day wore on. When he finally fucked her, Sally was so needy…she would have agreed to do anything he asked.

 **XXX**

Sally invited her parents to the flat on Sunday after the honeymoon and before they started classes. Paul fixed a nice shrimp pasta primavera, salad, and breadsticks for dinner while Sally gave her parents a tour of the flat. They noted the new furniture in all the rooms; but kept their thoughts to themselves. They enjoyed coffee and dessert, while Sally ran a slideshow of honeymoon pictures on the TV.

She kept the risqué ones of Paul's muscular physique out of the slideshow for her parents; but entered all those pictures in the one she planned to share with her colleagues. She planned to blush and say, "Oops" when the one of sleeping Paul, naked to his groin appeared on screen. She anticipated gasps at his semi-naked pictures from her colleagues.

Paul noted the uncomfortable looks which passed between CC and John when Sally gave them the tour of the flat. He could mentally see pound signs adding up in CC's eyes and felt there would be a conversation about it. When the slideshow and dessert finished, he took the trash down to the dumpster and asked John if he'd like to get some air.

"Paul, is there a reason why I was invited to view the dumpsters?" John laughed uneasily.

"Self-defense on my part, John. I noticed CC looked uncomfortable when Sally gave you a tour of the flat. I felt there was unspoken censure from her. I thought I would ask you, man to man, about the issue." Paul said evenly.

"CC is a little overprotective of Sally. I don't know if you heard, but we lost four babies before Sally was born full term. While we hoped for siblings for her; it was not meant to be." John answered. "I think that is why Sally is a neonatal nurse."

"I thought as much from things Sally said. However, Sally being an only child does not explain the unease about our living situation." Paul said, holding his hands flat against his body, hidden inside his jacket pockets. Fisting them would signal tension in his arms and might make John react instead of talk.

"I've always felt a gift of money should be spent how the recipient choses," John said. "We were thrilled when her grandfather and grandmother left her funds. We were thrilled when she used those funds to educate herself. I know CC stresses about how Sally spends the money. But, I told her, it's not our business."

"John, I know I came to the marriage with nothing but my brains, my body and a few possessions. However, I believe in my ability to graduate and find a good job where I can provide for my family. While I did not want a large wedding, and while I would have been happy to elope in Scotland; it was not what Sally wanted. I want her to be happy, John. I want her to have what she wants. I want her to be what she wants to be." Paul said.

"Do you ever say no to her?" John asked.

"Several times; the small wedding is an example. The colors for the baby's nursery is another. She accepted moving into my flat; because it is located close to campuses, work, shops, etc. However, she wanted us to have a fresh start. Which is the explanation for the new furniture. She wasn't about to sleep in a bed where she imagined I had dozens of sexual conquests. I wasn't about to sleep in a canopied four-poster frou-frou bed either. We love, honor and negotiate, John." Paul quoted something he read on a pre-wedding website.

"Glad to hear it, Paul." John laughed. "Frankly, the thought of fisticuffs with you sent a few shivers through this old man's bones."

"I would never raise a hand to Sally. Nor would I raise a hand to her parents or friends – unless it was in defense of my wife or child. My workouts and my running are not to maintain my physique," he lied. "They help me get out of my head." He sighed. "Sally is looking forward to entertaining. It's one of the reasons for the nice furniture. Our door is always open if you don't upset Sally with your disapproval of how she spends her inheritance. But please be assured, some of her inheritance is seed money for a down payment on a home for us someday." Paul ended the conversation before they reached the front door to the flat.

Paul didn't tell John about Sally paying for this semester's tuition, fees and books for him. He didn't tell John about the laptop and printer. He also didn't tell John about Sally's plans to pay off his student loans. She said it was better for them to be debt free while starting out in their marriage. She didn't plan to discuss their finances with her parents; because she and Paul discussed and did what was best for them.

Paul purchased a shower chair since Sally wouldn't take bubble baths while she was pregnant. She could rest while he washed her hair and every inch of her soft skin. He massaged her feet and gave her pedicures and manicures. He researched the best positions for pregnancy sex and took pleasure in introducing them to Sally. He enjoyed their new bed; raised with three tiers of drawers; Sally could lay down while he stood up. It was one of the easiest positions he taught her.

 **February 2004 ~~~ '** _ **Deep-versed in books and shallow in himself**_ **.' - John Milton**

Paul saw his next project at a paranormal convention at the event center. He followed her intermittently for two weeks. Eventually he broke into her ordinary (a trifle bit boring) flat on a Friday night when Sally was fulfilling practicum hours. His project was out with friends. Again, it was the matter of giving a hard push to a window with an old, inadequate lock.

 _Project ZB: 25…oncology nurse…petite, athletic body…soft round face…pouty lips…deep set stormy blue eyes…heart and lily tattoo on left shoulder…swims daily…wears retro-styled one-piece suits… horror DVD collection…reads paranormal thrillers about vampires, werewolves… listens to indie rock bands…has indie rock band T-shirt collection…_

Her diary revealed little. Her journal was either full of erotic fantasies or she had a very active sex life. Paul snapped pictures of the naughtiest entries. She preferred sex fests with indie rockers. However, if a musician was not available; she chose a professional man: doctors, solicitors, future politicians, engineers, bankers or business men. She was exceptionally comforting to wealthy widowers who lost wives to cancer. It was obvious to Paul, _ZB_ was looking for a sugar daddy to support her.

Her closet revealed a collection of scrubs for work, casual jeans and sweaters for weekends and fine clothing: silk dresses, cashmere sweaters and jackets, in colors of charcoal grey, violet purple, deep burgundy and navy blue to sky blue, light turquoise, and lilac. Her lingerie was all silks and satins, with a minimum of brushed cotton and cotton lawn. Paul raided the 100-count pleasure box of condoms from her bedside table. He tucked one into every pocket of sweaters, jackets, pants and skirts. He tucked them into side pockets of every purse. He tucked them into books on her bookshelves.

 _ZB_ donated a pair white silk classic briefs with black lace and ribbons and a pair of black silk bikini briefs with white lace and ribbons to Paul's collection.

He entered his building at the housing complex through the outside door and went straight to his storage unit. He changed out of his prowling clothes - black running suit and vest, hood and balaclava, and leather gloves. All his clothes, except for the gloves, were made of breathable materials which would not make him sweat.

He enjoyed drawing _ZB_ in various positions in his composition book, writing about her and using her panties to pleasure himself, twice. He took a laundry basket of prowling clothes and panties up to his flat and laundered them before Sally returned home. He took the basket back to the storage unit and meticulously put everything where it belonged.

 **March 2004 ~~~** _ **'Drift ever deeper in darkness,' –**_ **Scorn** _ **, Dreamspace**_

 _Project HH: 24…December graduate…physician's assistant…petite…beautiful face…surgically enhanced breasts…doesn't completely close her bedroom drapes… enjoys walking around her flat with wearing just her panties. Wears mid-heels, and carries a leather tote. She exercises after work on Tuesday and Thursday. She goes clubbing on Saturdays. Prefers sitting on men's laps instead of in her own chair._

A week before Paul broke into her flat, he enjoyed fifteen minutes of _HH_ walking around in her flat in a pair of pale pink boyshorts…and nothing else. She left her bedroom drapes open while matching navy-blue underwear and stockings to a navy blue dress. She made his early morning run completely enjoyable. When Sally went to work that night, he drew _HH_ wearing nothing but those pale pink boyshorts in various positions and sexual situations.

Paul broke into her flat when she was out with friends on Friday night and while Sally fulfilled practicum hours. He observed the modern décor. The kitchen had stainless steel appliances but she never cooked. She purchased dozens of takeaway meals from sites near the hospital. She purchased national lottery tickets. The most current one was a bookmark in her diary on the desk. She collected postcards from places she has visited. She supported Doctors Without Borders; and never missed a charity dinner for them.

He found the court paperwork ordering _HH_ to stay 1000 feet away from Dr. William St. James, a cardio-thoracic surgeon at the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast. He also found a bank book which noted she had £100K in the bank. _Hush money from Dr. St. James?_

 _She likes silk and satin underwear in pale colors. She prefers thigh high stockings to suspenders. She prefers lined dresses so she doesn't wear a slip._

Paul acquired two bottles of good red wine from her wine rack and a blush pink tanga. He enjoyed dressing his mannequin in the tanga while he drew pictures of _HH_ in her panties in various rooms of her flat.

 **Last Saturday, March 2004 ~~~** _ **'**_ _ **Into the darkness soon you'll be sinking. What are you doing? What are you thinking?' –**_ **Crosby, Stills & Nash** _ **, Into the Darkness**_

CC arranged for a baby shower to be held at the farm. She invited five dozen guests, which included church and family friends, Sally's friends, classmates and coworkers. Paul planned to keep John company and avoid all the cooing, oohing and ahhing over baby items. Sally asked him to wear a nice shirt and his charcoal grey sweater with black jeans and boots. She wore a pretty spring floral dress, with ballerina flats. She wore the aquamarine jewelry Paul gave her at Christmas. He gave her a matching tennis bracelet for her birthday. Their honeymoon tans had faded…but the gold wedding bands still caught the eye.

When they stepped into the packed house, Paul stood behind Sally, with his arms wrapped around her, his hands holding hers against her belly, her head tilted back and leaning on his shoulder. It would be Sally's favorite picture of them. She would have one printed and placed in a magnetized frame in her work locker.

Once Sally introduced Paul to the plethora of women in the house, Paul greeted a very pregnant Anna and a very pregnant Simone who attended Sally's shower. Paul hugged them, inquired about the new house and the future baby boys. They were both due in June. He offered to take Rachel so they could enjoy the shower.

He and Rachel, a petite brunette beauty who was potty trained and very chatty, walked around the farm. He gave her a ride on his shoulders so she could see everything. CC took a great picture of them together for Anna and Simone. When he and Rachel returned to the house, he built her a fort out of the dozens of boxes of baby nappies and smiled indulgently at Rachel who fell asleep on the carpet, a thumb in her mouth, and a rag doll clutched in her other hand. He insisted on getting refreshments for Sally, and kissed the top of her head, knowing he was being watched and judged by the women at the shower. Paul helped himself to a piled plate of tea sandwiches, savories and scones. He accepted a large mug of tea from CC. He sat on the overstuffed arm of Sally's chair, one leg propped on the chair at the knee. He balanced his overfull plate on his bent knee. Speaking softly to Sally, he ate tea sandwiches in one bite, demolished savories in two bites and the petite three-bite scones lived up to their name.

Anna and Simone kept his tea mug filled and kept offering Sally and Paul food before circulating plates and trays. Simone brought him a very large piece of chocolate cake. "It's our share of the cake too," they laughed. They talked about baby names for the boys – they were leaning toward R names – but Raleigh, Reagan and Rowan didn't appeal. "We're thinking Rafe and Rhys," Anna admitted. "Do you know what you are going to name her yet," she asked Sally and Paul.

"Everyone has suggestions," Sally said wryly. "I don't think Agatha Margaret Hortense Louisa Juliet Emma Doris Henrietta is an appropriate name." Anna and Simone winced until Paul explained they were weeding out great-grandmother names. Tea party/baby shower over; Paul carried a sleepy Rachel to the car for Anna and Simone.

"Watch your six," Anna whispered when he kissed her cheek goodbye. "Three of those women asked if you were our baby daddy."

Paul rolled his eyes. "Did Sally hear?" He asked. "She is really sensitive about her size and because her ankles keep swelling."

"No, or we would have pinned their ears to the wall." Anna handed Rachel off to Simone.

Paul kissed Simone goodbye and waved at Rachel who threw kisses at him. He returned to the house and offered his arm to the oldest ladies who enjoyed having a strong young man escort them to their cars. He ensured they were settled in their transports and thanked them for coming to the baby shower. He managed to avoid saying goodbye to most of the younger women that way. He ignored the ones lingering by the door and went in the house. He kissed Sally on her cheek. "From Rachel," he explained.

Sally laughed. "Maybe we should name the baby Simone Anna after them. After all, they introduced us in May of last year." Paul immediately understood the meaning of her announcement. Someone had asked questions about how they met and when they married.

After he and John loaded baby gifts in the car; John gave him a bottle of good Irish whiskey and a box of cigars to share when the baby was born. Paul expressed appreciation for them before he escorted Sally to the car. He would share them with his event center coworkers; otherwise he didn't know enough men to share them with. CC brought out plastic containers filled with tea treats so Sally could rest and they could have an easy dinner.

After Paul carried all the presents in and put them in the nursery, they had a quiet dinner, and an early night. Sally wore the light sea green maternity sleep shirt…and he could not resist fucking her. She said it was probably the last time they could be physical until after the baby was born. He knew his prowling was coming to an end until after the baby was born…and probably until the baby was past the toddler stage. He could live with that. He could be an involved and loving new father and husband.

 **April 10, 2004 ~~~ '** _ **let me also wear such deliberate disguises' –**_ **T.S. Elliot,** _ **The Hollow Men**_

"She's perfect," CC held her granddaughter. "What are you naming her?"

"We're naming her Olivia after a character in Shakespeare's _Twelfth Night_." Sally explained, "We married on Twelfth Night, and Paul loves reading."

"Olivia Ann, after her great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother," Paul clarified.

"You don't want to name her after your mother?" CC asked.

"Perhaps if we have a second daughter, we'll use my mother's name," Paul suggested. "I already have my preference for a second name when we have a son. My father's name was John, and Sally's dad is named John. So, John will be our son's middle name." He gently kissed Sally's temple. "That, by the way, is not a demand for you to get pregnant again immediately. I want us to have time to enjoy Olivia's childhood and toddler years."

"Yes, but you don't want to wait too long between children." CC advised. "You want them to be close enough in age so they are friends. You also don't want Olivia to be an only child."

"What's wrong with being an only child? I'm an only child. Paul's an only child. Dad is an only child. Paul's mother was an only child. Paul's father was an only child until his adoption," Sally laughed and Paul joined with a couple chuckles. "I'll get my birth control shot at the first possible moment." She promised him.

 **XXX**

"Where's my daughter?" Paul's voice was quiet, dark, scary.

The nurse supervisor checked Sally's chart. "She's with your wife, in her room."

"I just left Sally's room. She is sound asleep and my daughter is not in the room. My daughter is not in the nursery." Paul glared at her. "I suggest you find my daughter before I start ripping this place apart."

"Paul?" Kasie approached him. "Are you looking for Olivia? She's in the staff lounge. We've all been having cuddles."

"Does Sally know Olivia is not in her room?" His furious voice alerted the nurse supervisor that she had an upset father and there would be problems. "Olivia is not even 24 hours old and is not a doll for people to pass around."

"We visited Sally on our break and she fell asleep. So, we thought we would take care of Olivia so she could sleep." Kasie explained.

"Let's go," the nurse supervisor led Paul to the staff lounge. He retrieved his daughter from one of the women and then blocked the door so they could not escape.

"Was Olivia asleep or awake when you removed her from Sally's room?" Paul asked. No one wanted to answer him. "For the duration of Sally's stay in the maternity ward...Olivia is either in the nursery or in Sally's room. You don't take my child anywhere without Sally or my permission or knowledge. I will not allow my wife…the mother of my child…to be upset." He addressed the nurse supervisor.

"If you're so protective of Sally, why didn't you marry her when she learned she was pregnant?" Kasie demanded an answer from Paul. "Or were you waiting for her to get an abortion and set you free from your responsibilities?"

"Neither Sally nor I owe you or anyone else explanations about our marriage. However, you ought to know…after six years of dating girls who play mind games…it was refreshing to meet Sally. She is a lady who impressed me with her manners, integrity, intelligence and heart when we met a year ago." Paul snapped, stalking out of the staff lounge, heading to Sally's room. "Let's go see Mummy, little one," he said, cuddling a yawning Olivia.

Before he left at midnight, the nursing supervisor showed Paul the list of sanctions for the staff who caused or assisted in the Olivia situation. "Just because Sally is one of us…it does not negate their actions. Anyone else would have demanded a stolen or missing child report; which would have put the hospital into lockdown and caused a media frenzy."

"I don't want any of these women caring for my wife or daughter," he said calmly. "I'd prefer you didn't notify them of their sanctions until Sally and Olivia have left the hospital."

"It's better to have a staff meeting after Sally departs. I need you not to discuss this with Sally until you leave." The nurse supervisor asked. Kasie, as ringleader, was given one month to find another nursing position at a different hospital or medical clinic. The rest had one month to donate eight unpaid hours to the free clinic run by the hospital. Paul was secretly glad Sally would not return to the hospital for at least six weeks after Olivia's birth.


	6. Chapter 6

I do not own characters or plotlines from _The Fall_. I have taken them for a dark run…

There will be triggers _(sexual content, moral ambiguity, violent content, unsettling dark quotes)_. It is necessary to advance the story. I do not make light of Paul Spector's actions.

 **AN:** Rearranged chapters and numbers. There is not a new chapter. Old Five B is now Chapter Six. Everything else flows like it should.

 **XXX**

 **Chapter Six**

 **May 2004 ~~~** _ **'**_ _ **Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.' -**_ **John Milton**

Both Sally and Paul finished their courses. He did not plan to attend graduation, no matter how much Sally urged him. It was too much of a crowd, and Livvy required too much of their attention. A quiet dinner suited him. He planned to go for a long run after dark. Tomorrow they were going to the farm to celebrate with CC and John. He wanted to be in the proper headspace for a man who just graduated from college. He warned Sally he was going job hunting first thing Monday morning and every morning thereafter until he found a job. She would stay home with Olivia, but asked him to come back for a late lunch each day.

First thing Monday morning, Paul dressed nicely and went to the employment council with his resume, transcript and letters of recommendation. He talked to a counselor, completed paperwork and used their computers for job searches. He found four possible positions which had flexible hours. He printed out the position announcements and returned to the counselor. The counselor took Paul's credentials and arranged interviews – two on Tuesday morning and two on Wednesday morning.

After his visit to the employment council, Paul went to the mall and 'people' watched. He sat in the coffee court and drew pictures of brunettes as they wandered by. Most of the brunettes were too young (teenagers bunking off from school) or mothers, with small children, who were harried and harassed while running errands. However, he spotted half a dozen brunettes who were probably shopping during their lunch hour or afternoon off.

When he wasn't in interviews; Paul spent a few hours the rest of the week, walking around the Botanical Gardens, and appearing to read while 'people' watching. He filled the pages of a composition book with different women, one to a page, with free association thoughts about their hair, eyes, skin, walk, attitude, eating habits, reading habits, and snippets of conversations he overheard. Thanks to the new black leather backpack Sally gave him for graduation, he didn't have qualms about hiding his composition book and art pencils in it while he was 'job hunting' that week. It had an interior pocket which he locked with a mini padlock. It held his composition book and art pencils.

At the end of the week, he was hired as a tutor for the education council. Beginning the first of July, Paul would tutor teenagers and adults working for their GCSE levels. He would monitor study sessions and answer questions for students. He would proctor exams. Once he accepted the offer and received his schedule; he went to the housing authority and hired on to work ten-hour days on Saturday and Sunday until fall. In the fall; he planned to take online classes to further his education.

Sally was not pleased about his weekend work, but CC was ecstatic to have Saturdays and Sundays with her granddaughter. Paul explained his work for the education council. He would proctor study sessions from one to three each day and was booked for one-on-one tutoring sessions from three-thirty to seven-thirty each weekday night. He needed the physical labor of the housing authority since it would be harder for him to run at nights when Sally returned to work.

Sally offered to take him shopping at the mall and buy lunch. She wanted to apologize for being bitchy about his work schedule. She bought him a week's wardrobe (dress pants, shirts and sweaters) for the education authority and half a dozen pairs of jeans and dark t-shirts for the housing authority. He blew graduation money from John and CC on new dark running pants, tops, sleeveless vests and two pairs of new running shoes.

Sally was offered a position as the night shift neonatal nurse assistant supervisor beginning July first. She would work nine to five-thirty Friday through Tuesday. She would dress at work, in scrubs they provided for staff. She just needed new trainers for work. She needed to lose the last of her baby weight and tone up a little before she could wear her matching underwear from before the pregnancy. She began taking Livvy for morning and evening walks while Paul ran. Between breastfeeding and exercise, she was pleased to be in better shape after giving birth to Olivia than she was before she got pregnant. Her hair and nails flourished from the prenatal vitamins.

Paul enjoyed his working weekends where he could 'people' watch. Soon June would pass and he would be back at work in the afternoons and evenings. Sally would be back to work at night. He wouldn't be able to prowl, but he would be able to draw and play with his mannequin.

 **XXX**

Steve's bachelor party would cause Joan to give him grief until after the wedding. She was livid about Steve's coworkers arranging stag night at a strip club. Paul didn't want to attend. Sally insisted he go and she agreed not to ask questions. However, he put his prowling backpack in the trunk of his car…in case he had a chance to slip away.

Paul nursed a beer and listened to Steve's brothers, cousins, friends and coworkers act like horny teenagers. Several of them bought Steve lap dances with buxom blondes, which he seemed to enjoy. Paul enjoyed watching the brunettes who serviced other customers. Steve kept badgering Paul to purchase a lap dance for himself, but Paul demurred.

Steve didn't grass him to Sally and he didn't grass Steve or the rest of the men either. When Sally started to pry; Paul reminded her that he did not want to go. His reply did not please her…but she set the terms for the event and he held her to them.

When Sally and Livvy napped, he drew pictures of a petite brunette stripper in various positions and states of dress or undress.

 **June 2004 ~~~** _'_ ** _Hollowness - that I understand. I'm starting to believe that there isn't anything you can do to fix it. The holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them. Like the tree roots around concrete; you mold yourself through the gaps.' -_** **Paula Hawkins**

Anna and Simone agreed to watch Livvy while Paul and Sally and John and CC attended Steve and Joan's wedding. However, before the wedding started, Simone went into labor. CC and John insisted Sally and Paul stay for the wedding. They would pick up Livvy and keep her for the weekend.

Sally was one of the bridesmaids, and wore a street-length satin and tulle periwinkle gown for the wedding. Paul wore his grey suit and sat alone on Steve's side of the church. He received a lot of eye-fucking from both women and men at the wedding. He was attentive to Sally at the reception, ensuring Sally had champagne to drink, and they danced to every slow dance with one another. Paul turned down a lot of offers from single women for dances, and turned down offers to get lucky from single men. Sally was so busy with the newlyweds, she missed the interest which circled around Paul.

Paul insisted on giving Sally more champagne and a massage. When she passed out in bed, he dressed her in one of her silky nighties, kissed her tenderly on her forehead, and went to his storage unit. He dressed in his prowling clothes and enjoyed slipping out into the dark. He prowled past places where he had seen brunettes but was unable to stalk, or break and enter or capture souvenirs. He prowled streets near his housing complex. He prowled car parks at pubs, watching for drunk women leaving with eager men.

He observed three teenage couples having sex in parked cars. He didn't stay to watch the action, it was young blondes engaged in ordinary teenage sex with their boyfriends. His running steps slowed as he watched a cab drop off a very drunk brunette. The cab driver waited until she unlocked the door to her home and entered. Paul noted the address as he ran past and circled back to check the house.

Paul watched from the dark as the brunette opened the balcony doors to her bedroom, and passed out on the bed. Paul chuckled softly to himself. He scaled the outside of the house, pulling himself up on the balcony. He closed the balcony doors and drapes, and then lowered the lights. He checked the rest of the house, closing and locking doors and windows, dousing lights.

He returned to her bedroom, stripping her and taking pictures of her. He posed her in various positions on the bed, with restraints, blindfold, and gag. He took lots of pictures of her. He posed her in some of the sexy poses of his illustrations by Gil Elvgren and snapped more pictures. Then, he dressed her in a sexy nightie; posed beautifully on her bed. He threw the items he used for restraints, blindfolds and gags on the floor of her closet.

While he would have enjoyed rough sex with her while she was unconscious…his cock would not respond. He was struggling to establish and maintain his _happily married, new father_ persona. He must be more in control of himself than he realized. His cock would let him look, and it would let him play with his live doll, but it would not allow him an erection and release.

He took the time to go through her underwear drawers and picked a pair of dusty blue bikini panties. He explored her home. He perused her bookcase and music. He checked her cupboards and refrigerator. He inspected her bathroom…noting her birth control pills, open box of condoms, and plethora of bathing products. The most revealing item from her desk was the card with the username and password to access the laptop on her desk. He couldn't resist…

She wrote erotica. She was no Anais Nin; but he was sure she kept herself well pleasured with her erotic stories. He wondered if she had sex toys to accompany the erotica. He left her computer open to an extremely kinky passage regarding temperature play and bondage on the kitchen table as pre-dinner entertainment for a dozen guests.

He began looking for her sex toys, and found them in a suitcase on the closet shelf in her bedroom. He enjoyed laying them out, like breadcrumbs from her bedroom to her computer. He acquired a bottle of citrus vitamin water from the refrigerator and departed well before dawn broke. He stopped in the storage unit and changed back into a set of sweats after he pleasured himself with the panties and dropped her photos to the CD of his projects. He knew Sally would be passed out for a little while longer. He had time to do his laundry and return it to the storage unit before Sally woke.

 **XXX**

Sally stretched and moaned and felt herself captured in Paul's arms. She was in a nightie and he wore his silky boxers. She sighed.

"What?" Paul murmured in her ear.

"Did we?" Sally asked.

"Sleep, all night long, without being awakened by a small child," Paul asked. "Yes, we slept all night."

"You didn't?" Sally questioned him.

"What? Take advantage of my wife who can't keep her hands off me when she is buzzed?" Paul chuckled. "No, I didn't touch you last night. We're coming off your sexual moratorium after Livvy. I wanted both of us to enjoy our first experience together after the birth of our daughter."

"I have a headache," Sally groaned.

"I'm prepared for that." Paul reached for headache tablets and a cold mimosa. "I know the Quad H Hangover Cure. Headache tabs and hair of the dog. Followed by a hot shower and hot, but leisurely all day long sex with your husband. I have a pitcher of mimosas in the refrigerator, a light gourmet breakfast, and a pizza delivery place on speed dial."

 **Thursday, July 1, 2004 ~~~** _ **'The only true borders lie between day and night, between life and death, between hope and loss.' –**_ **Erin Hunter**

Paul saw his attractive brunette, from Steve and Joan's wedding night, enter the Botanical Gardens while he was driving to work. He was glad to have had the opportunity to prowl that night, and he enjoyed himself. However, he knew the fun was the following and the anticipation of inspecting her life.

He knew he would rely on his mannequin, souvenirs and composition books to keep him entertained until another opportunity to prowl presented itself.

 **July 2 ~~~** ** _'All for freedom and for pleasure; nothing ever lasts forever.' –_** **Tears for Fears** ** _, Everybody Wants to Rule the World_**

"We're fine, don't fuss," Paul told Sally. "I did Livvy's laundry. We're stocked up on nappies, wipes, and all kinds of baby products. You pumped and we have more milk frozen in the freezer if I need it. I know how to feed, burp, bathe, change nappies, etc. I don't need your mum to hold my hand. Livvy and I will be fine. You've slept; we had a quiet dinner. Now, go to work, Neonatal Nurse and Assistant Supervisor, Sally Spector. Love those babies and help their parents."

"Will you be awake when I get home?" Sally asked.

"Depends on whether Livvy goes back to sleep after the four o'clock feed. We may be wide awake when you get home at six." Paul said. "I'm counting on her sleeping through the night so I can. I promised the housing authority I would work tomorrow. Your mum said she'd take Livvy so you can sleep."

"Do you have to work weekends?" Sally asked.

"I have to stay busy, Sally. When the weather turns; I'll take a break and return in the spring. Your schedule is finally stabilized for the neonatal unit. If you want to cover additional shifts, after the first of October; I don't have a problem with that."

"Then I will give you a big feely kiss goodnight, and see you in the morning," Sally said.

"Promises, promises…" Paul pushed her up against the wall and attacked her mouth. "I'll be thinking about your matching set of underwear all night long."

"Promises, promises…" Sally escaped before she had second thoughts about being just a little late for work.

Paul turned the telly on low…some documentary about conservation in the rain forest. He waited one hour…then slid a sleeping Livvy into her carrier, took an old blanket and his mobile to visit his storage unit. He set Livvy's carrier under the desk. He locked the door, and dropped the blanket on the floor to block any light which might escape. He enjoyed a few hours of dressing and undressing the mannequin, reading his old journals, viewing the pictures of his last project and pleasuring himself with various souvenirs. When Livvy started to awaken, he quickly dressed and took the dirty lingerie with him to wash and dry before Sally came home. This was pleasant; he looked forward to Friday evenings in his storage unit.

 **Christmas 2004 ~~~ '** _ **The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.' -**_ **John Milton**

He took Olivia to the mall; despite CC's protests. He told Sally he wanted a picture of Olivia with Father Christmas. He bought a cute little angel sleeper with padded gold wings and a little gold halo headband. There was a place at the mall where he could have her picture made into a Christmas ornament. With a loaded baby bag and an extra blanket for Olivia, Paul set off for the mall. Sally laid down to sleep.

He tucked a fresh composition book and art pencils in the baby bag. He would drink coffee and draw while waiting for Olivia to wake. Once she was fed, burped, and changed, he would take her for her picture. He would arrange for two ornaments to be made for CC and Sally, but he would not pick them up until Olivia was ready to go home. She slept for about an hour and a half mid-morning and mid-afternoon. He planned to take advantage of the times Livvy slept.

Paul was thankful Livvy slept through the night now. He enjoyed his Friday nights in the storage unit, but needed new fuel for his fantasies. With his back to the wall in the coffee court, he had a good time filling the pages with pictures and notes about the brunettes he saw. There were plenty of them in the mall today…sans men and dressed for the holidays. It was a gift to himself.

He left Olivia in her angel sleeper and used her to attract single women whose biological clock was pounding louder than their hearts. They paused to coo over Olivia, which gave him the opportunity to notice facial shapes, eye colors, teeth and shapes of lips and ears. Paul picked up his coffee cup with his left hand so all the women saw his wedding band.

 _Cherry red V-neck sweater…nice flash of cleavage when she bent over…crimson bra…tight black jeans…black ankle boots…gold studs…high ponytail…blue eyes… five five-ish…120 pounds…very white teeth…smells like peppermint…_

 _Blue-grey sweater and leggings… blue-grey eyes… petite...five two maybe? Less than 100 pounds…smells like citrus…mother of pearl angel necklace and earrings…black ballerina flats… low braided ponytail…_

 _Plum sweater dress…camel color boots…camel, blue and plum plaid scarf pinned with gold bar pin…gold hoops…messy updo with sweeping side bangs…warm brown eyes…smooth creamy skin…pouty lips…oval face…five six…maybe 120 pounds… lingerie store bag...plum bra and panties? Sheer plum teddy with lace in strategic places?_

 _Red skater dress…black tights…black heels…black jacket…Is she wearing black underwear? Center parted, shoulder length bob, sleek hair…too much product…Dark brown eyes…square face…red cupid bow mouth…jasmine and amber scent… great legs…nice breasts…small waist…five four…120 pounds…_

 _Grey cable knit sweater dress…black suede knee-high boots…black suede purse…black pearl earrings…long curls with sides tucked behind ear…heart shape face…arched eyebrows…rose lips…straight white teeth…sexy walk_

 _Black long sleeve angora sweater with a green, black and red plaid skater skirt…black tights, red ballerina flats…layered shoulder length hair…brown eyes…dimples…white nails with black and green stripes…erect carriage…lovely graceful neck_

 _Champagne gold silk sweater, black skinny jeans, black heels…brown eyes with gold glints…sweet round face...full breasts…round, perky ass…double Dutch braided hair…lingerie store bag...black underwear? Gold underwear? Champagne sheer nighty with lace borders and lacy bikini panties?_

He shopped for Sally's Christmas present, a pair of gold-plated combs for her hair. They were embossed with tiny floral decorations. She could open them in front of her parents. His present to Sally for Paul was cobalt, navy and light blue silk blend sleep shirts and matching bra and brief sets. His anniversary present for Sally was a spa basket of lavender and vanilla bath products. He remembered Sally's cream underwear and nightie from their wedding night. Paul bought her another cream-colored spaghetti strap nightie and matching robe, but this set had delicate purple embroidery. He shopped for bottles of white wine for Christmas dinner and Sally bath night. He bought a good bottle of Scotch for John for Christmas. He picked up the Christmas pictures and Christmas ornaments for CC and Sally.

Paul locked his composition book and the Christmas shopping in the car boot before he took Livvy home. Sally was awake and ready to mother Livvy. He showed Sally the Christmas pictures of Olivia and she exclaimed over her little angel. He was glad the pose she liked best was the one he chose for her Christmas ornament. He blamed the lines at the Father Christmas picture booth for his extended absence.

 **December 25, 2004 ~~~~** _ **'I love the silent hour of night' –**_ **Anne Bronte** _ **, Best Poems of the Bronte Sisters**_

"I feel very decadent," Paul said, wearing the black silky short robe and black silky boxers Sally gave him for Christmas. He enjoyed the feel of the satin against his skin. They made him very horny. "You'd better open your personal present now, because Livvy's asleep and I want to play." Sally put on the cobalt blue sleep shirt which looked very good on her. Paul wouldn't let her take it off while they had sex. He enjoyed the feel of the silky shirt against his skin. Sally gave him a grey Henley shirt and a grey long sleeve t-shirt for Christmas at her parents' house.

 **A Year Later; December 2005 ~~~** _ **'People don't realize that now is all there ever is; there is no past or future except as memory or anticipation in your mind.'**_ **\- Eckhart Tollie**

Paul had a quiet year. He observed; he followed; he fantasized; he drew; he played with his mannequin but there were no home invasions. Running was cathartic and provided an opportunity to observe. Taking Livvy to the park gave him the opportunity to observe. Working out took the edge off his sexual tension. Bathing Sally every six weeks or so, getting her drunk and engaging in slightly rough and slightly kinky missionary sex kept him sated…but he really needed a brunette fix to calm and soothe him.

Paul spotted his next project while he was shopping for Sally's Christmas gift. He bought a gold-plated floral-etched bangle bracelet, for Sally to open in front of her parents. While he was buying her personal present, which was a purple spa basket of vanilla and lavender bath products and lavender candles; a long-haired brunette was in queue before him. She purchased a green citrus-scented spa basket. She asked the clerk for suggestions of items she could add to the spa basket. The clerk recommended a French terry cloth spa robe and a bottle of wine. The brunette thanked her and joined the throng in the mall.

When Paul finished his purchase, he went to the lingerie store where the brunette selected a pale green robe and queued to check out. Paul selected a pale lavender robe for Sally and stepped behind the brunette in the queue. She smelled like spring flowers. Her glossy hair, held back by a plaid Christmas headband, fell in a dark thick curtain to the middle of her back. After she checked out, Paul watched which way she went in the mall.

After leaving the lingerie store, he spotted her in the gourmet food store. He wandered about with a basket, picking up cheeses, crackers, smoked salmon, olives, fancy nuts, truffles, gourmet chocolates and berry-flavored petit fours. He and Sally could have a pre-holiday picnic in their lounge while watching the Christmas movies she loved.

He picked four good bottles of white wine; one for picnic night; one for bath night; and two for Christmas with John and CC. He watched the brunette pack a basket full of wine and delicacies. He loitered, looking at items, until she joined the queue. He followed behind her. This time, instead of paying cash; she paid by credit card and he got a name. He obtained her address when she offered ID for the purchase.

He took time to stash everything in the boot while watching the car park for her. He needed to know what kind of car she drove. He followed her from the mall to a house off Malone Road. It was on his running route now. After Sally went to work and after Livvy was asleep, he would retrieve his packages and hide the nonperishables in the storage unit. When Sally returned in the morning, he went for a run past the brunette's house. All the curtains were drawn and there was no movement. Her car was not there either.

For a week, he ran or drove past the dark house…and wondered if she had gone somewhere to spend the holidays with family.

Saturday, he put Livvy in a stroller and took a brisk walk with her while Sally napped. He noticed the moving van and busy workers carrying in furniture and household goods. She wasn't getting new roommates…the house was being settled by a tall buff blonde man and his petite blonde wife. _WTF? Where did she go?_

He took Livvy home and waited with anticipation for Sally to go to work. He attempted to research the brunette on the internet; but could not get a hit on her. He accessed his mobile and used her pictures to draw his fantasies of her. Until she crossed his path again; there was nothing he could do. He didn't like not being able to stalk her. He attempted to assuage his frustration by visiting the storage unit with a sleeping Livvy. No amount of lingerie, his mannequin or time eliminated the frustration. He destroyed two pairs of stockings from his lingerie collection by tying the mannequin's legs and arms to the chair. He went online, looking for Christmas plaid panties which reminded him of her headband. They would keep him occupied until he found her…or found a new project.

He worked around the flat; doing laundry and cleaning. He did a strenuous workout to exhaust himself. Eventually when he was tired, he went to bed, but he had restless dreams about the brunette who disappeared. He woke easily when Sally slipped into bed, wearing a silk sleep shirt.

He claimed her mouth, kissing her until she was breathless. His body pinned her to the mattress as he sucked and licked and nibbled every available inch of her soft skin. Then he pulled her off the bed, and bent her over, her torso resting on the bed, her legs spread. He had one hand on a hip and one on the nape of her neck and he took her…hard, hot and fast. She could not move, pinned in place by his strong body.

Sally loved early mornings like this…Paul just seemed to fuck away any nagging work thoughts or work concerns Sally might have brought home with her. She enjoyed his ability to make her senseless.

 **January 2006 ~~~** **'** _ **Night was a very different matter. It was dense, thicker than the very walls, and it was empty, so black, so immense**_ **.' - Guy de Maupassant,** _ **The Complete Short Stories of Guy de Maupassant, Part One**_

Paul planned a quiet anniversary dinner with wine, a hot bath, and a massage for Sally. He also remembered his prowling the night Steve and Joan married. He need it. The only way he would get quality Paul time was if Sally was passed out. He could claim they both passed out. Then, his ordinary sex with her the following morning would be so much more enjoyable with warm memories of following and home invasion.

Sally passed out before ten, and Paul was thrilled. He went to the storage unit, dressed in his running and prowling gear. He checked the newspaper that day for lists of events occurring tonight. He cruised by two of the events and spotted a potential project leave the community center. He carefully followed her home. He observed from a dark corner by her home. She entered and turned on lights in several rooms. Too much light…he managed to sneak close to the house. She changed from the little black dress and heels for her night out into dark skinny jeans and a dark turtleneck, long sleeve t-shirt. She sat at a desk in her home office and opened her laptop, answering e-mails. He observed how her fingers flew over the keyboard. He enjoyed watching her close her eyes, tip her head back and continue typing…as if purging her mind. Her mobile rang and her eyes opened…answering the phone. He could vaguely hear the conversation on her part. A friend drank too much and needed a safe ride home. She grabbed a crossbody bag, and with keys and mobile in hand, she flew out the front door of the house and jumped into her car. She promised her friend she would be there in fifteen minutes and would stay the night with her. She assured her friend they would figure this out. Whatever 'this' was…it gave him an opportunity.

Paul carefully watched the neighborhood. There was no movement, no one peeking through drapes, etc. He slipped into her home and turned off the porch light. He slipped through the rest of the house, closing drapes, turning off lights. The house looked dark from the outside…and no one would have a clue there was someone roaming the inside until she came home. He wasn't sure how much time he had…so he went to the important rooms first.

 _Project_ _SE…26…Electrical Engineer…specializing in robotics and AI…dark brown hair, just past her shoulders…light brown highlights…little girl nerd glasses…slender build…nice tits and ass…green eyes…flawless skin…cotton low rise briefs in colorful prints and solids…clothes in primary colors…into cosplay…reads science fiction and science tech thrillers…watched sci-fi DVDs…especially Runaway and I, Robot…burnt DVDs of battle bots shows…listens to tech noir music…robotic floor vacuum…robotic toys…robots, dogs, etc. Framed vintage movie poster for The Day The Earth Stood Still._

The robotic vacuum explained why her house was not cluttered. Her home had low-carbon imprint features – solar panels, water savers, a wind turbine to produce energy, etc. She had several high-tech gadgets in her home, kitchen, etc.

Her bathroom was surprising. It had some tech toys, like a towel warmer, but instead of the cartoon colors which permeated the rest of her home, her bath was a sanctuary. Sage green walls, real plants, and bath products which were citrus, grass, and meadow scents. The bathroom window was covered with a bamboo shade.

Paul read her diary…she liked concerts and live theatre productions. Her journal noted the departure of a college boyfriend six months ago. Her open computer, was logged into her email. Mostly it was communication with other team members. He enjoyed walking around her home and learning about her. However, he spent two hours there, observing her life. He needed to go.

Paul acquired the _'pow, biff, slam'_ motif cartoon print panties and bra. He enjoyed leaving them in his storage unit until he had Friday night free with a sleeping Olivia and a mannequin who did not complain if he didn't play with her.

 **~~~ the next morning**

Paul awoke to Sally's warmth snuggling against him. "Good morning," he whispered in her ear. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," she stretched suggestively, her round, pert ass bushing against his wide-awake cock. "Looks like someone else is awake and wants to join the party."

"I know you've been very tender lately…" Paul said. "Are you sure you want me."

"Yes…and I don't want you to be tender," Sally said. "I need you."

Paul groaned with sexual anticipation and eagerly reached for his wife. His fantasy of hard, rough, kinky sex would sate him while his body performed energetic, but ordinary, sex with Sally.

 **June 2006 ~~~ '** _ **We look before and after, and pine for what is not.' -**_ **Percy Bysshe Shelley**

Paul saw his December brunette in the park at the Botanical Gardens. He was having a picnic with Livvy after her musical playgroup. The brunette was having lunch with the blonde man from the house. Paul got as close to the couple as he could. Livvy was having a blast, throwing bread cubes to the ugly ducklings. She tried very hard to say 'ugly ducklings' but it didn't come out well. She could say Da-Da and Bed (bread) fairly well. He loved watching her dance to the water's edge and throw bread to the baby swans and their parents. He brought the _Ugly Duckling_ book with him, and eventually she settled in his lap so he could read to her. When she fell asleep, he arranged the shade cover to protect her, and pulled out his composition book to capture pictures and poses of the brunette with snippets of conversation. The blonde man disappeared and reappeared with the blonde woman from the house. She was very pregnant. She sat in a folding chair the man brought for her. The brunette moved close to her and they began talking.

Paul shook his head twice… _WTF_?

Before things digressed further, the blonde thanked the brunette for the housewarming gifts and the gourmet picnic for their first night in their new home. She then thanked the brunette for giving up the family home so they could move in and raise their baby there. Suddenly…the blonde man reappeared…but it was not the blonde man with the blonde woman…it was his twin. The men greeted each other with manly hugs before the second man bent to kiss the brunette hello. Paul decided it was time to go. There was no sense checking out the brunette because she had not one blonde bodybuilder man in her life, but two.

 **December 2006** _ **~~ '**_ _ **He who reigns within himself and rules passions, desires, and fears is more than a king.' -**_ **John Milton**

Paul spotted his next project when he shopped at a garden center. He wanted to buy some paperwhites in a clay pot for Sally from Livvy. She wanted to plant a tree at her parents' farm for Olivia's birthday. He picked up information about their choices.

 _Project_ _HVA: 25…thick, wavy hair…fawn colored eyes. A landscape design intern at a garden center. She volunteers her time to design community gardens. Her average height is the only thing average about her. She likes a lot of natural light…leaving drapes open from sunrise to sunset._

He observed her community garden displays and recognized one of the gardens as being off Lisburn Road. He listened carefully as she spoke with customers and gave advice and quick gardening lessons.

"That garden," she pointed at the display Paul recognized, "is a community garden off Lisburn Road. It was my final graduation project. I live just a few blocks from it. I was able to work in the garden in the early morning before classes and around dusk when I returned home." Paul did not loiter. He had enough information to start a search for her on the web.

Paul sat in an open area on the mezzanine of the shopping center; 'people' watching. Livvy was at her grandparents. He promised Sally a nice lunch if she would do the Christmas shopping and let him just sit and watch the world go by. Sally agreed, because she thought he needed time to buy a present for her. Sally came upon him, watching a woman shop. "Like what you see," she tried to joke but her voice was thick with jealousy.

"As a matter of fact, yes. I've been struggling about what to buy you for Christmas. That window display convinced me to buy you a cashmere sweater…do you want a cardigan to wear with dresses and nice things or a pullover to wear with jeans when we have a date night?"

"I would love the sapphire blue one, V-neck pullover to wear with jeans. However, the black cardigan is a better choice," she smiled at him. "I'm sorry I was jealous before."

Paul kissed her quiet and went into the shop following the garden center brunette around the store. He picked up a black and a white cashmere cardigan for Sally. He managed to follow the brunette in the queue and listened intently when the clerk asked for identification to verify her credit card use.

When they returned home, he pushed Sally against a wall. "We're going dancing, and you are going to get silly drunk and let me fuck you senseless while you're wearing one of your new sweaters." He kissed her and asked if CC could watch Livvy for the night so they could have quality adult time with one another.

"I can't get drunk, Paul," Sally said. "I'm pregnant."

"What?" Paul paused his oral assault of her neck.

"Pregnant, due in July," she said. "I think the cold I had in early November messed with my birth control shot. However, I'm past the icky stage and am now in the really horny stage of pregnancy."

Paul took a step back and watched her face. "I think we'd better have a quiet night discussing what we plan to do about this." Parenting Olivia took time away from his fetishes for brunettes and their lingerie. Parenting two children? They could do this with some planning.

Paul exhausted her with all night sex. When she fell asleep, he dressed for a run, with his prowling backpack. The lights were off and the car was gone from the garden center brunette's home. Paul slipped in, noting the clean, almost spartan décor. She used the second bedroom as a home office; with an adjustable art table, a graphics storage cabinet, and bookcases.

He took pictures of her bedroom. It resembled a high-end hotel room with luxurious bedding and excellent furniture; but sparse personal items were displayed. A large mirror over a faux fireplace reflected light from the window into the room. He appreciated the five-panel dressing screen in the corner of the room, hiding a cheval mirror and dressing table with chair. He imagined her dressing and undressing behind the screen.

 _Ballroom dance Friday and Saturday nights. Ballroom dance practice Saturday and Sunday afternoon. She carries herself like a dancer - toned body. She takes excellent care of herself, eating healthy, drinking water, limiting her alcohol intake._

Half the closet in her bedroom was filled with work and casual clothes. The other half of the closet was filled with long, fancy dresses and cloaks which she wore to ballroom practice and events. She had two dressers, one for daily items; the other held underwear for ballroom dancing. He stroked the almost invisibly thin bras and panties in her ballroom dresser and snapped pictures of them. He wrapped a pair of silver lace-topped stockings around his hands and felt their tensile strength before he draped them over the cheval mirror. While her ballroom lingerie intrigued him; Paul selected a pair of champagne pink bikini panties from her daily dresser for his own personal pleasure. They were soft, feminine and pretty. He left the back door standing open when he left…ensuring she would never leave doors and windows unlocked again. Maybe he would check back next month to see if the lesson took.


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own characters or plotlines from _The Fall_. I took them for a dark run.

There will be triggers _(sexual content, moral ambiguity, violent content, unsettling dark quotes)_. It is necessary to advance the story. I do not make light of Paul Spector's actions.

Please review! Thanks. Again – not posting new chapters. I just cleaned up old ones and renumbered them properly. Thanks.

Please review.

 **XXX**

 **Chapter Seven**

 **January 2007 ~~~** _ **'It was the possibility of darkness that made the day seem so bright.' –**_ **Stephen King,** _ **Wolves of the Calla**_

"The area counsel examined your references and your vitae," Mrs. Shergold said to Paul Spector. "We need a group leader for the Saturday and Sunday art therapy sessions and the writing therapy sessions. They are three hours each, 9-12 for art both days and 1-4 for writing both days. The schedule will not interfere with the tutoring you conduct during the week."

"Acceptable," Paul nodded at the list of rules for the position. While his weekend days were filled with group sessions…there was always the opportunity to 'people' watch on his way to and from work. Olivia needed him at night so Sally could work until the new baby was born. John and CC would take Livvy for the weekends so Paul could work days and Sally could work nights.

 **January 5, 2007 ~~~ '** _ **Don't look for a partner who is eye candy. Look for a partner who is soul food.**_ **'**

John and CC took Livvy so Paul and Sally could celebrate their anniversary. Although, Sally couldn't drink, Paul insisted they go to dinner and dancing. Steve and Joan joined them.

"Paul, what did you get Sally as an anniversary present?" Steve asked.

"Third anniversary is traditionally leather gifts," Paul smiled. "I got her a pair of leather handcuffs, blindfold, gag and restraints for the bedroom."

Joan choked on her wine.

"He did not!" Sally blushed. "He bought me a lovely black leather tote which I can use for work; and a nice black leather clutch," she showed it to Joan. "And before he tells you I bought him a leather thong for our anniversary…I bought him a new leather wallet and very nice leather belt."

"Ooohhh," Steve sighed. "Spanking to go with the handcuffs."

Joan choked on her wine again.

 **XXX**

"Why did you tell Steve you bought me kinky things for our anniversary gift?" Sally asked.

"Because I don't like intrusive questions," Paul said. "It's none of Steve's business that I bought lingerie for you. I don't want him or Joan fantasizing about our sex life." He handed her a specially wrapped box.

"I still have the lingerie from when I was pregnant with Livvy," Sally said. "Mom's bringing those boxes back when she brings Livvy home on Monday."

"Just open the box," Paul sighed.

"Oh god, I love you!" She threw herself at him.

"I thought those would make your day," he observed as Sally whipped off the bra she was wearing and put on one of the new underwire and support bras Paul bought her.

She moaned in appreciation. "Oh god that feels good."

Paul stepped behind her. "Sally, if your boobs get any bigger; you will look like a porn star." The support bras sort of looked like bondage gear. Truthfully; they made him a little hard. He enjoyed shopping for them.

"This is the best anniversary present in the world," She said. "What do you want as a thank you gift?"

"Don't make me read baby books; don't make me help with baby registries; don't make me attend baby showers." Paul said.

"What about crazy food cravings?" Sally asked.

"Well, right now you are craving meat, tomatoes and jacket potatoes with sour cream. When you start craving orange blossom ice cream like Joan did when she was pregnant with Alex; we might have issues." Paul laughed.

"Do you mind if I wear the bra while we have sex?" Sally asked.

"You are a kinky girl," Paul started nibbling on her neck.

 **XXX**

"It's a six-month online course, in bereavement counseling," Paul explained. "It ties in well with the art therapy and writing therapy. I can study at night while you are working and Livvy is sleeping."

Sally worried Paul would spend hours on campus (among young and pretty coeds). However, he assured her it was strictly online. Once he printed the syllabus and purchased all the books; everything was submitted online, at his pace. He had six months to complete the course, and could access and watch seminars online. He would submit his assignments online.

 **Saturday Sessions ~~~** _ **'Fine art is knowledge made visible.'**_

Paul distributed new composition books to his art class. "Each class session, we will have a fifteen-minute group art exercise. Using an art pencil, I want you to scribble on the first page of your composition book. Watch me first before you begin." Paul scribbled on the white board. When he was finished, he addressed the group. "Scribbling is a little cathartic for me." He grinned at the group. "Now, I examine my scribble. I find a face in it. Perhaps it is a Picasso-ish face." He examined the scribble and then, as he spotted a face, he began darkening lines to bring out the features. "It will never be as good as a Picasso; but it was fun. Now I would like you to try."

He walked around the room, watching scribbles and watching his students attempt to find faces. After ten minutes, he called a halt to the exercise. "That exercise is helpful for when you need to release some angst. You can do it riding on a bus; standing in line; waiting for an appointment, etc." Paul said. "Let's discuss what you would like to achieve in our sessions." His students were a mixed lot of people who lost partners, progeny or parents.

 **XXX**

Paul distributed new composition books and thesauruses to his writing group. "Each class session, we will start with a fifteen-minute group writing exercise. I also have a page of writing suggestions. Today, the writing exercise is describing smiles. On page one, write down everyone's suggestions, and a few of your own."

Paul began writing as his class called out adjectives for _smiles_ : warm, beautiful, affectionate, sweet, shy, faint, pitying, grave, somber, amused, playful, withering…

"The reason for this exercise is sometimes you experience writer's block when you are struggling for a word. If you experience writer's block…select one of the suggestions from my list, and write. If one suggestion doesn't work, try a second, or a third, or however many you need to purge your thoughts and jump start your writing urge. One word to a page," Paul explained. "Let's discuss what you hope to achieve in these sessions."

 **XXX**

Paul kissed Sally goodnight and wished her well at work. He told her he would keep Baby Herne and Baby Martin and their families in mind tonight. He assured her he planned to work on his online class along with other tasks. He did a fast and furious cleaning of their flat and changed their bed linens. He started a load of laundry to put in the dryer when he got home. He went to the storage unit and dressed in his prowling clothes and went for a run. He noted a slim brunette, coming home in the dark. She was not tipsy; but he wondered why she was alone.

She entered her flat, but exited within a few minutes, carrying a tote with her. She walked to the corner store. Paul observed escape routes from her flat to his neighborhood when a man entered her flat. The front door to the building was unlocked. The man reached for a hidden key hanging on a nail under a picture in the hall. Paul walked the perimeter of the building on the slim brunette's side of the building. She did not close her drapes on the windows which had tall, privacy shrubs. He quietly slid between the shrubs and the building. From that vantage point he could see almost all the lounge and part of the kitchen. Paul walked quietly next to the window and paused again behind a shrub and could see into the bathroom. The next window allowed him to see into her bedroom.

Paul watched as the man lit candles in the lounge and doused the lights. He put wine in the cooler and wine rack. He opened a bottle of red to let it breathe. He returned to the lounge and sat quietly.

The slim brunette returned home shortly after the man entered. She greeted him with an affectionate kiss and let him put her tote in the kitchen. He led her down the hall. Paul observed a faint light in her bedroom and bathroom. He had an excellent view of every movement in both rooms. The man lit bathroom candles and began to fill the tub while she put her purse, coat and shoes on a chair by the closet in her bedroom. She allowed the man to strip her, bathe her, and lead her to the bedroom. Paul watched as he reverently dried her body and dressed her in burgundy lingerie, stockings and stilettos.

He led her by the hand back to the lounge. He sat in a dark leather armchair and made her please him with her pouty pink mouth. Paul became enormously aroused when the man held her hands behind her head while thrusting into her willing mouth. He jerked off watching her please the man with her mouth. When her guest was sated, she retrieved the bottle of wine which he opened, along with two glasses. She cuddled in his lap, drinking wine and talking before she pleased him again with her mouth. He didn't stay long after the second tryst. When she locked the door behind her guest; Paul slipped out of his hiding place and ran home.

Paul wondered how someone so fresh and pretty could stand to be touched by a man at least three decades older than her…and not a handsome man, just a well-off man who supplied designer lingerie and bottles of good wine for his mistress.

Paul observed her schedule when he could while going to or coming home from work. He had a couple morning runs where he paused outside her bedroom window and observed her sleeping in bed. When he saw her leaving on Friday night with friends; he broke in; unscrewing the hall light bulb and accessing the key from under the picture.

 _Project MMC: 25…ophthalmologist…pale skin … platinum eyes…onyx hair. The gap between her front teeth is charming. Slim, but toned and fit, with energy to burn. Lots of burgundy, grey and black clothes…pinks, grey, black and white designer underwear…reads biographies of famous actresses and princesses…chick flick DVDs… modern, dark espresso furniture…cream walls…gold, dark green, burgundy or chocolate furnishings…_

He checked her diary and noted initials JB on Saturday evenings for several previous months. She scheduled bill paying and running errands for Sunday mornings. She scheduled family visits for the first weekend of each month. Her journal revealed nothing.

He helped himself to two bottles of Sancerre from her cooler. He helped himself to the silky burgundy set she wore for her guest. He left a set of dusty rose lingerie on her bed with a tied stocking where her hands would be stretched over her head, and a tied stocking where her feet would be. He left, returning the front door key to its hiding place.

His composition book pictured _MMC_ in a restrained classic damsel in distress position, sitting in the leather lounge chair. He drew her with her bare torso laying on the chair with her ass on display and her legs spread. Her hands were restrained behind her back with a stocking. He drew her straddling an arm of the chair, her ass bare, her hands restrained behind her back. Her hair plaited…waiting for a man to wrap it around his hand and use it to control her. When his drawings excited him; he used her pretty panties to sate himself. He planned to wash them and dress his mannequin.

 **Sunday Sessions ~~~** _ **'Writing is easy. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.'**_ **– Ernest Hemingway**

"Today's opening exercise," Paul addressed the art therapy group, "Is discussing color combinations. Everyone knows primary colors of red, yellow and blue – what is one more color which would coordinate?"

"Green," Someone said. Another person suggested white.

"Let's try some combinations," Paul said. "Fuchsia…" Responses were lemon yellow, navy, turquoise, purple, grey and of course, white.

"Pink," Paul said.

"What color pink?" Someone asked.

"Pastel pink," Paul clarified. Answers were pastel blue, mint green, pale purple, grey, aqua and of course, white.

"Tomato red," Paul said. Responses were grass green, bright yellow and electric blue.

"Cherry red," Paul announced. Answers were azure, lemon yellow, bright orange, taupe, beige and cream.

"Raspberry red," Paul said. Responses were azure, grey, sand, beige, pale yellow and another cream and white response. "I'd add black to the list and perhaps blueberry blue."

"Lime," Paul wrote. Answers were bright orange, olive green, dark brown, bright yellow, cherry red and all the neutral colors. They continued the exercise for ten minutes.

"Let's discuss somber colors," Paul said. "Colors which make you depressed or sad. Responses were black, brown, grey, dark violet, and then Kia, an oriental girl in the session, said white. It started a discussion about traditions and cultures. Red and white flowers were discussed as funeral arrangements. One of the women in class said she was bothered by seeing white flowers with greens, or green plants with white flowers. She said it reminded her of her mother's lawn and white rose bushes. Another said her mother died at Christmas and she thought Christmas white and gold decorations would bother her for a long time.

 **XXX**

"Today's opening exercise is how to use the thesaurus which I gave you. Words are arranged alphabetically, like a dictionary." Paul said to his writing group. "Let's find synonyms for _anticipation_." He waited for them to find the word and then he started writing as they called out synonyms. When they exhausted that list, he called out the word _walk_ and they began again. "Did anyone write this week?" He watched as most of the hands in class were raised. "How many of you would like me to read and discuss your writing?" He noticed fewer hands, but ensured he spoke with all of them. He carried a box of tissues with him, because occasionally, they were needed.

 **February 2007 ~~~** _**'There are different kinds of darkness. There is the darkness that frightens, that soothes, that is restful. There is the darkness of lovers, and of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.' –**_ **Sarah J. Maas,** _ **A Court of Mist and Fury**_

Paul knew he should not follow anyone from his art therapy or music therapy courses. However, the staff who worked the center on weekends was fair game as far as he was concerned. He could only prowl on Friday, Saturday and Sunday when CC and John had Olivia. With Sally's pregnancy and her full-time work; she needed to rest during the day as often as she could.

 _Project KS: 26 … legal aid solicitor…petite…deep set sapphire blue eyes… Laughs easily with coworkers, adeptly avoids male coworker interest. Attends theatre and art gallery openings. Meets friends and family for dinner or drinks in restaurants and pubs of the Cathedral Quarter. Lunch time spent at sidewalk café on sunny days._

Paul photographed her bedroom. Her flat was decorated in an old world Italian style…gold burnished walls…Italian style furniture and bed linens. A painting of the Mediterranean Sea graced the wall over her bed. Her bathroom resembled a Tuscan spa…a tile floor, multipoint shower, and deep soaker tub. She had a stereo system just for the bathroom and a towel warmer. She had language CDs in the bathroom; obviously practicing her Italian.

Her journal contained a partial itinerary for a vacation to Italy, taking the train from Paris to Rome. The itinerary listed two travel agencies who specialized in tours for singles and a list of dancing hot spots in Rome. She had half a dozen tour and travel books for Italy on her bedside table. He relocated her journal and her Italy travel books to the coffee table in her living room. He acquired a silk charmeuse black teddy when he left.

 **XXX**

Sally suggested they find a house. The flat was not big enough for a new baby. Livvy needed a yard to play in and a room of her own. Paul did not know what he would do when they moved and he had to give up his storage unit. Sally could drag him to view houses; but he had needs beyond three bedrooms, two baths and a yard.

 **March 2007 ~~~** ' _ **Never forget that anticipation is an important part of life. Work's important, family's important, but without excitement, you have nothing. You're cheating yourself if you refuse to enjoy what's coming.' -**_ **Nicholas Sparks,** _ **Three Weeks with My Brother**_

Paul choose to watch a student. He knew he shouldn't; but if he could just watch…and not follow…or perform a home invasion…he would be fine. RR was in his writing therapy sessions. He enjoyed watching her enter and leave the classroom. All he planned to do was watch; until her sister, SW came to the center one afternoon to pick up RR. Then he was intrigued.

 _Project Rose Red (a.k.a. RR) …24…physician's assistant student…fit and tan…long fingers…sparkling dark brown eyes like a Van Morrison song…dark brown hair with auburn highlights…separates itself into spiral curls…melodic voice…prefers to be outdoors when it is sunny…full red kissable (no, fuckable) lips…_

 _Rose Red_ was in his writing therapy class because she stayed home with her terminally ill mother while her sister worked to pay the bills and support the family. _Rose Red_ lost two years of attending college and socializing with friends to be with her mother until she passed. She stressed because she missed her mother, felt guilty about her sister still supporting her and felt angry about the father who abandoned his family to be with a tour guide in Australia. Paul ensured he spent time with her each session, discussing her writing and discussing if she felt better when she purged those thoughts from her head.

 _Snow White (a.k.a. SW) …26…surgical nurse…older sister to RR…toned…graceful walk which I like…long dark hair which swirls to the middle of her back…wears French braid for work… lively sienna brown eyes…lush dark lashes…creamy complexion with blush rose cheeks…straight white teeth…rosy lips…wears dark blue scrubs…_

 _Snow White_ picked _Rose Red_ up on Sundays after writing therapy sessions. _SW_ insisted on touching base with Paul about _RR_. A few times when she came early to pick up _RR_ ; he talked with her about their family dynamics. They still lived in their family home in the University Quarter. _SW_ worried that _RR_ needed a fresh start. _SW_ listened carefully when Paul suggested they both needed a break away from their lives. They went to a local pub and Paul convinced both ladies they needed to rest and recharge. He told them about his honeymoon in Tenerife. Since both enjoyed being outdoors and sunbathing, Tenerife was a temptation neither of them could ignore.

He broke into their home through a second-floor window Saturday night after they left for Tenerife on Friday night. The house was decorated in contemporary style, and had clean fresh green and blue painted walls. The home gym intrigued him. He took pictures of their bedrooms and the home gym so he could draw pictures later.

He enjoyed reading their diaries and journals. He explored their bathrooms, closets and underwear drawers. He acquired a pair of white thigh-high stockings with a satin bow on the back from _Snow White_. They went well with the white satin brocade basque and white satin bikini panties which he acquired from _Rose Red_. He could dress his mannequin in their clothes…and pose it in many positions for drawing suggestive pictures.

For some reason, other than taking their underwear, he decided not to leave evidence of his visit to their home.

When _RR_ and _SW_ returned from Tenerife, they brought Paul a jar of their local honey because 'he had been so sweet' to them. He thanked them for their thoughtfulness. _RR_ decided she didn't need writing therapy any longer. Her depression was cured by the sunshine and ocean at Tenerife.

 **May 2007 ~~~** _ **'How can I be substantial if I do not cast a shadow? I must have a dark side also if I am to be whole.'**_ **– C.G. Jung**

On a Saturday morning run; Paul was captivated by a petite, brunette who ran also. She was oblivious that he ran behind her; her earbuds in and an MP3 player clipped to a pocket of her hot pink running suit. He was impressed with her stamina. She ran at a good pace for thirty minutes, around the perimeter of the Botanical Gardens. When she was finished running, she walked from there to her home near Stranmillis to cool down.

She paused twice to answer a vibrating mobile phone, explaining to family she would see them on Sunday. She was meeting friends at their favorite Italian restaurant in the Cathedral Quarter by eight-thirty. Instead of leaving a spare key laying around, she unzipped a wristband and extracted a key for the deadbolt on her front door. Paul circled her home, finding it backed up to a public alley. He watched as she walked from room to room, checking window locks and opening drapes for the day.

After his day ended; Paul went home and helped Sally prepare dinner and take a shower. He washed her hair, and had gentle, ordinary sex with his pregnant wife. Her hormones were in overdrive right now. They were having sex twice a day to help control Sally's sex drive. He laid in bed, watching her get dressed for work; giving her a show also, with his right arm tucked behind his head and his naked body covered only at his groin by a corner of the sheet on their bed. Sally left for work early; she wanted to drop Livvy at the farm and talk to her dad for a few minutes.

Paul intended to go back out for a few more hours of prowling between nine and midnight. While dark clouds passed over the barely crescent moon; he tried every door and window to the brunette runner's home. It was locked up tight. He did not see an easy access…until his eyes fell on a basement window. The window caulking was old and dry, cracking easily with his chisel, allowing him to remove the pane of glass and open the lock of the old casement. He carefully set the pane of glass aside to prevent breakage. He slipped into her basement and made his way up the stairs, noting the creak of the old wooden stairs.

He enjoyed the small alcove off the lounge where she created a reading nook. She must belong to a book-of-the-month club, because everything on the shelves was popular new fiction from the last few years. She used plain white bookmarks where she jotted notes about words or phrases to research. She noted quotes which she liked from the book. She left bookmarks in all the books…which he found to be a little _odd_.

Her antique roll-top desk intrigued him. She had something in every nook and cranny – antique pictures of ancestors, tied up with ribbon, an extra stack of blank bookmarks, index cards with lists of things to do, to buy, or to research. She had a collection of old recipes…some marked with names like Granny's Irish Cream, Aunt Rosalind's Lemon Shortbread, Valerie's Christmas Fudge, etc. He found an antique skeleton key, tied with a frayed green ribbon. His favorite find in her desk, a vintage brass and mother of pearl cigarette case and matching lighter. It was obviously from the 1940s.

Her diary noted marathon runs, mostly for charity. Her desk drawers held good pens and quality stationery; but no address book. Her bills were separated into different stacks by name and the most current bill was located on the top of the stack. Each group was bound separately by rubber bands.

Her bedroom was filled with antique furniture from the 1940s. Her dressing table held three silver-plate and mirrored trays, holding perfume, makeup, and hairbrushes, combs and hair elastics. He snapped pictures of her room, imagining her in seductive 1940s pin-up girl poses. She had three white satin dressing gowns: short, knee-length and ankle-length. He brushed their quilted cuffs over his cheeks…closing his eyes and breathing her soft scent which clung to the fabric.

He searched her dressing table drawers and dresser drawers. Her dresser drawers were neatly arranged with folded underwear in sets in one drawer and separate panties and bras in others. He smelled soft floral scents from sachets tucked in the drawers. She had soft pastel lingerie in vintage colors. He acquired a pair of soft minty green panties with delicate white embroidered flowers on one side.

Her bedside table drawer held hand cream, gloves, a torch, a notepad with a few notes on it – most regarding clothes which needed mending or cleaning. It held her journal which did not intrigue him. A dark green marble sphere about the size of a baseball, which may have been an antique paperweight, and a water carafe were on the top of the bedside table with a lamp and alarm. He liked how the sphere felt in his hand, and he slipped it into his pocket. She had two books on the bookshelf of the bedside table.

Her bathroom was light and airy with baskets of plush rolled bath linens and baskets of bath products. She had a candlescape on the back of the toilet. She had a claw-foot bathtub, which had a ring shower curtain if she wanted to shower instead of bathe. The surprise in her bathroom was the vintage chandelier, and a small overstuffed armless chair in the corner which was covered in a vintage green toile. He snapped pictures of the bathroom. He would enjoy drawing pictures of her in a bubble bath, with the soft glow of candles or from the chandelier.

Her kitchen held vintage aprons hanging from an antique coat rack. She had embroidered tea towels from the 1940s and 1950s folded neatly in her kitchen drawers. The table, tucked in an alcove, had a rack of antique cups and saucers hanging on the wall over it. The table was covered with an antique daisy motif tablecloth. She used an antique water pitcher as a vase in the center of the table. The kitchen was spotless with cheerful yellow walls, cobalt blue glass canisters, and a hanging pot rack of copper bottomed sauce pans.

She had a cobalt blue glass fruit bowl on the counter. He helped himself to an orange, peeling it carefully in a circular pattern and setting the peel on the counter beside the bowl. He snapped a picture of the kitchen and her ruffled antique apron. He mentally envisioned her, naked, except for the apron, her back to the stove, her pert ass available for viewing.

He laid the ruffled white eyelet apron on her bed, with white panties beneath the apron, and placed a white handkerchief for a gag where her mouth would be. He took the three cloth belts from her robes – tied one where her hands would be; tied one for a blindfold; adjusted where the handkerchief would gag her, and tied the last one where her feet would be.

Sighing with content at his long and successful tour of her abode, he let himself out through her back door. Walking down the alley toward home, he reached in one pocket to caress the green sphere paperweight, and in the other pocket to caress her panties. The sphere paperweight would go well with the disk paperweight he acquired before.

 **XXX**

Paul and Sally encountered problems when they decided to move into a house. CC felt she should have a say about where they moved. She scoured the papers, looking at ads for houses to rent. Daily she called Sally and asked if she had seen certain ads in the paper? Did Sally need CC to make an appointment so they could tour the house?

Paul informed Sally there was no need for CC to house hunt with Sally…because CC could just call movers to take Sally and Livvy home to the farm. She could live with her mother. Paul would stay at his flat. CC could arrange Sally's life to her heart's content. CC could arrange for Sally to get a divorce. CC could arrange Paul's visitation times with Livvy and the new baby. CC could arrange another huge baby shower for the new baby.

Paul knew Sally's self-doubts. He knew she thought he'd be a carefree divorced father who could find many women to fill his bed. He knew she thought that a divorcee with two small children would not entice a man…especially if her mother interfered in her social life. He knew Livvy would be difficult to live with if Daddy was not a daily part of her life.

Sally knew it was not an idle threat. Paul was right…it was their marriage…their future home. Paul insisted they write down what they wanted from a house, before they began the process. They went house hunting without parental interference. They discussed additional furniture they needed for the house. Once they found a house they both liked; they signed the rental papers for moving in June first. Sally paid their first, last and deposit from her inheritance funds. Paul offered to take Sally to lunch to celebrate another milestone in their marriage.

Paul held Sally's hand while they waited for their food to be served. He spoke in low tones to her; to avoid being overheard. "We have about a month to break in every room in the house before we anticipate Liam's arrival." He winked at her blush. "I think we should put our bedroom at the front of the house. I agree, we should move our bedroom furniture to the farm. The double bed in your bedroom there is killing my back."

"Actually," Sally blushed again. "I'm asking Dad to let us move furniture into the cottage near the pasture. It hasn't been used in years. We need to hire a cleaning company. The cottage will give us privacy when we need it. Dad will understand, and there won't be an issue."

"I would like to have private time and space with you on your parents' farm." Paul lied. Currently he refused to touch Sally sexually when they stayed overnight at her parents' house. He previously explained he felt it disrespected her parents to fuck in their home. He needed to ensure they never stayed overnight at the farm, at least not together anyway. "It would be nice for my wife to express her pleasure in my bed, without worrying that the children or your parents can hear us."

Sally blushed again, "Paul!"

"You can be very vocal sometimes," he teased. "Especially when you're begging…"

"Paul!" Sally hissed. "Hush." She sat up straight instead of leaning forward to converse privately "We should decide what furniture to send to the farm."


	8. Chapter 8

I do not own characters or plotlines from _The Fall_. I took them for a dark run.

There will be triggers _(sexual content, moral ambiguity, violent content, unsettling dark quotes)_. It is necessary to advance the story. I do not make light of Paul Spector's actions.

Please review! Thanks.

 **Chapter Eight**

 **June 2007 ~~~** **'** _ **Innocence, once lost, can never be regained. Darkness, once gazed upon, can never be lost.**_ **' – John Milton**

"Thank you for the review," Paul said.

"Thank you," Mrs. Shergold said. "The art exhibit you arranged for the best pieces created by your weekend sessions created positive press for us. Not only do we have a full registration for the weekend sessions in art and writing therapy, we also received donations from the community, and a larger budget from the council authority. Having your clients donate those pieces for an art auction helped raise funds also."

"I'm glad," Paul managed to mirror her smile back at her.

"Since you will complete a six-month bereavement counseling course by the end of the month, an opportunity presented itself. The council authority vetted you for the position if you want it. This day position would allow you to be home with your daughter while your wife is working nights." Mrs. Shergold explained.

"I heard there are expansion rumors for the center." Paul said.

Paul was offered a bereavement counseling job at the center, which mean more money, and a flexible schedule. When he was not with bereavement clients; he could continue to tutor his clients, who were mid-process in attaining all their GCSEs. "We know you have an affinity for listening and working with difficult people or people in difficult positions." Mrs. Shergold said.

At her suggestion, Paul agreed to volunteer on Friday nights for the Suicide Helpline starting July first. "Counseling for a normal death can be difficult…it seems to be exacerbated by suicides. The bereaved sometimes never have answers. If we can keep one person from suicide, we save many family and friends from unanswered questions and heartache."

 _ **~~~ the first Saturday in June**_

With a well-placed comment from Paul regarding Sally needing a rest; CC and John took Sally and Livvy to the farm. For the last three weeks Sally worked sixty hours a week. John agreed to let them move furniture into the cottage. Sally wanted to be there to observe the cleaners coming to clean the cottage. John and Paul insisted she rest…not clean, pack or stress. She begged Paul to spend the night with her at the farm.

After Sally and Livvy left; Paul spent an hour stripping the beds and bagging up dirty laundry. He knew to give himself a time buffer…in case Livvy forgot a toy and they had to return for it. Once his hour was up; Paul emptied the secret storage unit. He paid the rental fees on it every year as a Christmas present to himself. He photographed his composition books, saving the images in a secured and hidden folder on his laptop. He downloaded the composition book CD to the folder also.

He packed his mannequin, his souvenirs, and his older composition books and pictures (before London, 2002) from the storage unit. He destroyed everything else, filling a trash bag which he planned to drop in a dumpster far from his home. He took the unused materials up to his home office unit. He could explain them through his weekend sessions.

He rented a lock-up on the east side. He paid the rental fees for a year, using his previous identity of Peter Baldwin. He needed to keep his favorite projects from Sally. When he found the perfect hiding place in the new house, he could bring back some things. Paul purchased moving boxes and returned to the flat. He worked steadily emptying home offices, bookshelves, cupboards, closets, drawers, etc.; filling, marking and sealing boxes and stacking them inside the front door.

CC coordinated their move the next day. Neighbors and friends with trucks came to help move Sally and Paul to their new house. Liam John was due by the middle of July, and Sally wanted to be moved and settled before he came. She would take two months of maternity leave after Liam's birth, but she would return to work by October first at the latest. Her supervisor did not want to lose her assistant supervisor for any length of time. Agreeing to assign Sally to night shift Saturday through Wednesday was not a hardship.

"Are you coming in?" CC sniped at Sally.

"I will when Paul gets here." Sally said. "I promised to not enter the house until he gets here."

"Well, that's a stupid promise! What if you need the facilities?" CC snapped.

"Well, I guess I'll go to the back yard behind a bush," Sally closed her eyes, and rested in a lawn chair under the tree in the front yard.

"Hey, Mrs. Spector," Paul gently kissed Sally's head and awakened her. "Let's go into our new home. You'll be more comfortable there." He picked her up, bridal style and carried her into the house. "Welcome to our new home, Mrs. Spector," he set her down gently, and kissed her softly and reverently a couple times.

"I'm glad you came when you did," Sally said. "Suddenly Liam's kicking my bladder."

Paul put his hand on her abdomen, "Liam, calm down and quit kicking Mummy."

"Thank you," she kissed Paul and headed for the downstairs bathroom.

Sally and a pregnant Joan, who was due in November, kept Livvy and Steve and Joan's first child, Alex, occupied while the furniture was being placed. Packed boxes were placed in the room designated on the box. Sally had ordered new furniture for Livvy and replacement furniture for what they were sending to the farm. New furniture and other deliveries interrupted the flow of unloading trucks.

Unbeknown to Paul and Sally; CC coordinated a baby shower to follow the moving process. A rental company brought a dozen picnic tables and chairs and set them up in the front and back yards. They left extra folding chairs to seat women in the house for the shower. CC coordinated all the arrangements. Food and libations were delivered to the house. Blue and white decorations were delivered to the house.

"What is this?" Paul whispered in Sally's ear.

"Impromptu housewarming and baby shower," Sally sighed.

"Really?" Paul asked. "Other than Steve and Joan…these people are friends of your parents. I want you to take your mobile and go to the upstairs bathroom. Call everyone on your contact list and tell them we're having an impromptu housewarming. Invite them, tell them no presents, and bring libations if they are so inclined."

Paul and John barbequed on the patio in the company of the men on the new gas grill CC purchased as a housewarming gift. It was delivered and set up while Paul coordinated furniture placement upstairs and John coordinated furniture removal from the flat to the farm.

"Paul," John said. "I'm sorry, I didn't know CC planned a surprise baby shower and housewarming party. I didn't know she expected us to cook for sixty people when we should be helping unpack boxes."

"Our fault," Paul said evenly. "CC was surprised about the cottage and the new furniture. She didn't appreciate being excluded from the house selection process. It's a very passive/aggressive move on her part."

"Is that the politically correct phrase for bitchy?" John said. "The minute we've finished feeding your impromptu party, I'm insisting everyone depart and let the two of you rest."

"Be aware John," Paul kept his temper in check. "We will have problems if CC doesn't cease interfering. If you won't talk to her, I will. Sally is feeling pressure at her job…especially since I won't let her put in extra hours until Liam is born. She's very tired, John. This impromptu party means she won't rest properly until dark. She doesn't need pressures and expectations from CC. I won't be gentle when I press my point."

"I understand and I support Sally's decisions. It's why I gave her permission to use the cottage near the pasture. CC will back down. You just have to be firm." John advised.

"In other words, pick our battles carefully?" Paul laughed.

Paul was glad the men were in the back yard with them. He didn't like the way a bunch of those fuckers stared at Sally's breasts, or watched her curvy hips and ass walk away. She looked very feminine in a soft, flowy maternity maxi dress. Her hair was loose, wavy and flowed to the bottom of her shoulder blades. She was very sweet and affectionate with him in front of their guests.

CC answered the ringing doorbell. "Anna, Simone…welcome," CC shot Sally a look.

"How wonderful that you could come," Sally greeted them affectionately. "Livvy's upstairs, she'll be thrilled to have Rachel to play with. Joan's son Alex is upstairs also, the boys will have a playmate also. Just make sure the gate at the top of the stairs is fastened."

When they left the room, CC spoke to Sally. "Great…the lesbians are here. Are you ready for everyone to ask if Paul is their baby daddy?"

"I'm prepared," Sally said, opening the door to three of her colleagues which her mother did not invite.

"Where are all these people coming from," CC whispered.

"Paul and I invited them. Except for Steve and Joan…none of our friends were here. If we're having an impromptu baby shower and housewarming, we wanted our friends here also." Sally said, moving away from her mother to answer the door again.

John and Paul fed several dozen people, and were thrilled to call it a night when the darkness fell.

"Let me carry Rachel to the car for you," Paul offered. Anna took Rafe and Simone took Rhys.

"This will probably be the last time we see you," Simone said. "My mom's ill. She lives in London. Anna and I leave Thursday with the kids. We will move in with mom. We've sold our house, and the movers come Thursday morning. We're on a plane Thursday afternoon."

"We're sorry to see you go," Paul said. "Both Sally and I wish you the best." He helped them get the children settled and waved as they departed. He joined Sally on the porch to shake hands with the rest of the departing guests.

"We'll be back in the morning to help you sort that basement," CC announced.

"No, we won't," John said. "I have deacon duties at church tomorrow and it is potluck Sunday."

"But I don't have anything prepared for the potluck, and we're really needed here," CC argued.

"I can coordinate with the company to pick up the tables and chairs. There are two untouched loaves of garlic bread and an untouched relish tray which you can take to the potluck tomorrow," Paul offered. "I'll get them for you while you say goodnight to Livvy and help Sally put her to bed."

Paul stood on the front step, his arms wrapped around Sally, while she waved goodbye to her parents. Paul and Sally took a shower; and christened their new bed with tender sex. "I think I'll blame the baby boom in the next nine months on you." Sally said, her head resting on Paul's naked, muscular chest. "Those women at the baby shower couldn't take their eyes off you; especially your ass in those tight jeans. I'm glad you disappeared with the men."

"I think I'll blame it on you," Paul said. "You didn't see those men checking out your porn-star rack?"

"Don't tease me," Sally sighed. "I know I've only gained 20 pounds, but I feel huge."

"I think at least ten of those 20 pounds are in those bountiful breasts of yours. I'm not teasing. I was ready to defend your honor. I guarantee there's going to be hot sex tonight, fueled by fantasies of your rack." Paul said.

"Fueled by your hard body, you mean," Sally yawned.

"Let's agree to disagree about which one of us was hotter today," Paul said. "I just know a bunch of those fuckers insisted on hugging you goodbye when they left…and I never saw them hug you before."

"I'm sorry about my mother and the shower and the housewarming party." Sally sighed.

"I'm sorry you've had to deal with the farm and cottage without me." Paul apologized. "We're here, and we'll settle in as we get time." They snuggled in bed, making plans for tomorrow and the rest of the week.

 **July 2007 ~~~ '** _ **There was a man of double deed**_ **.'**

"Suicide Helpline," Paul answered a call before he planned to go on a break. He could hear soft, intermittent sobbing. "My name is Paul…can you tell me your name?"

"Leigh," she answered, a tremble in her voice.

"Leigh, can I ask you to do three things before we talk? I'd like you to get a glass of cold water, a cold, wet washing flannel and some tissues. Can you do that?"

"Yes," she said. He could hear background noise as she obviously carried her mobile with her. "I'm back," she said slowly.

"Wipe your face with the washing flannel, and take a drink of the cold water and then we can begin." He said softly. "Are you able to talk now?"

"Yes," her breath came in gasping sobs.

"I'm here for you…just talk. I don't judge, I don't problem solve for you. I'm here to support you though this rough time." His voice was soft; yet strong.

"I've been considering killing myself," she said.

"Are you terminally ill?" Paul asked.

"No…" she said. Then she began talking; sometimes so rapidly Paul struggled to hear every word. Sometimes her words were accompanied by great struggling gasps for breath. It was then he asked her to breathe with him… and he began a slow deep breathing exercise meant to flood her brain with oxygen and give her a feeling of euphoria. She calmed more and revealed her issues. He let her talk, and talk; only responding to let her know he was listening intently to what she had to say.

Then she calmed, and discussed options for her life. Paul recommended she seek a LGBT support group who was knowledgeable about the issues she faced. He gave the address and phone number for two such groups. He urged her to eat some dark chocolate, drink some more water, take a hot bath and get a good night's sleep. The helpline was there to support her and keep her from feeling overwhelmed to the point of ending her life.

He memorized her phone number to complete a reverse look up. He was curious about her looks. When he found her name and address; he observed her when he could. He watched her brunette locks flow in the breeze when she crossed the open green between the car park and her office. She headed for a coffee cart. He enjoyed the vintage cashmere sweater which accented a pair of breasts which would distract most men. He enjoyed the not-too-tight, and not-too-short pencil skirt and modest heels. She looked and dressed like a lady. Her voice was low and slightly breathless at times. He wondered if she wore a corset or waist cincher to get that breathy sound in her voice. He wondered if her undergarments were lady-like, or slutty. He enjoyed standing behind her in the queue; dressed in his bereavement uniform of dress pants, shirt and sweater. He looked like he could work in the area.

 _Project L.C._ he wrote in his composition book. _Dark-haired brunette…curvaceous…five feet; eight inches and 135 pounds…blue eyes…fair skin…full lips…dimples_.He found an ad for her on an adult dating site _...eats healthy; exercises; non-smoker; non-drugs; recreational drinker, clean medical card, seeking fulfillment of sexual fantasies with clean couple._ He sketched the picture from the ad into his composition book…she wore a black teddy and robe with a black mask to provide anonymity.

Two weeks later, Paul broke into her home early Saturday morning after watching her depart with a suitcase on Friday evening. She got into a car with a couple. He was supposed to be running…that was the excuse he gave Sally to leave the house. He lock bumped her back door. He photographed the sultry, sexy decor of her bedroom and bathroom. He rifled through her underwear drawers and stole a pair of black flower designed fishnet stockings and a pair of black silky panties.

Part of him wanted to hide the sex toys from her bedside table in interesting places in her home. However, he was out of time and had done enough damage. She would return from her weekend to find her cat was missing. Paul snapped its neck and dropped it at the trash can when he departed in the early morning dawn; jogging home easily.

Paul waited patiently for Sally to leave for work and Livvy to be sound asleep. He retrieved his composition book updated his observation of _LC_. He drew a picture of her in his composition book. She was blindfolded by one stocking, and her hands restrained above her head with the other stocking…legs spread wide apart…showing her bare sex. He enjoyed using her panties to sate himself.

His home office had officially been christened. He washed the panties with his prowling clothes. Then he put everything away in his prowling backpack in the attic access in Livvy's room.

 **July 15, 2007 – '** _ **Between the conception and the creation, falls the Shadow'**_ **– T.S. Elliot,** _ **The Hollow Men**_

"He's beautiful," CC relinquished Liam to Paul. "I think he has your coloring. Livvy looks like Sally; Liam looks like you."

"I think you're right," Paul said, examining his son.

"You should nap while he's napping," CC scolded Sally.

"I can't do that mum," Sally said patiently. "Paul has to work. I must parent while he's not at home. Livvy isn't a doll to put on a shelf while Liam's napping so I can nap."

"You couldn't take time off?" CC questioned Paul.

"I have clients who are at a critical juncture in their bereavement process. I can't abandon them. I had to block my clients in two-hour increments. I don't know if they will take one hour to talk out their issues, or two. I will be home when I don't have appointments." Significant looks passed between Paul and Sally.

"Can you finish Liam's room while I'm here with Liam?" Sally asked Paul. "Everything is done except finishing Liam's room and arranging the basement."

"I can help with that," CC offered. "I'll just stay at your house for a few days to get you and Liam settled."

"Please don't fuss," Paul said to CC. "I will be here with Sally today. At dinner time, I can go home and work on Liam's room. Tomorrow, between appointments, I can finish preparations for Sally and Liam to come home."

"I thought we'd take them to the farm for a few days," CC's obvious disapproval rankled Paul. He gave Sally another glance and turned to the window, his back to CC.

"No, mum. I want to go home with my son and put my feet up. We need to get him settled into his room and establish a schedule." Sally said. "We have our first checkup next Friday."

"How can I help then?" CC's voice was cool.

"It would help if you could take Livvy for a few days…" Sally started to say.

"NO," Livvy interjected. "I want to stay wif you," she wrapped herself around Paul's leg. "I want to play wif the baby!"

"He's too young for you to play with him," Sally said, knowing her daughter ignored her and waited for her Daddy's opinion on the subject.

"He's not a doll, Livvy," Paul said. "If you continue to yank at me, I might drop Liam; which would hurt him." Livvy did not let go. "Fine," he sighed with exasperation. He dragged himself, with Livvy hanging on, to Sally's bedside and handed Liam to her. He reached down and unwrapped Livvy from his leg, holding her tight against his chest so she couldn't kick or thrash in a tantrum. "You, little lady, are going with Granny for a few days."

"NO," Livvy screamed, which woke Liam, who began to cry. "I'll help you take her to the car," he said to CC. "Olivia," Paul held her tight in his arms. "Stop screaming now, or Daddy _will_ spank you." He waited for Olivia's tantrum to subside. "You are going to Granny's for a few days so I can work and take care of Mummy and Liam. If Granny tells me you misbehaved; you will spend five minutes in a corner for every time you were bad."

 **XXX**

That evening, when Sally fell asleep and Liam was back in the nursery; Paul went home and dressed for prowling. He did not know when the next opportunity to prowl would present itself. He took one path away from the house, and another path back to the house. Then he took another path from the house, and another path back. He saw three homes with brunettes which bore further observation.

 **July 18, 2007 ~~~ '** _ **Between the desire and the spasm lies the shadow.' –**_ **T.S. Elliot** _ **, The Hollow Men**_

"Don't fuss," Paul told Sally. "I can watch Liam and make coffee and breakfast for us. You've been trying to shower for two days, and keep getting interrupted. We're fine, take however much time you need."

"What if Liam wants to nurse?" Sally fretted.

"He's clean, changed, fed, and burped. You have at least an hour before he wakes again," Paul said.

"What if Mum or Livvy calls?" Sally fretted again.

"You need to take care of yourself first," Paul said. "I will take care of Liam and myself. If your mum or Livvy call, I'll handle that also." Paul kissed her cheek. "Give me that baby monitor…" he chuckled when she reluctantly released it to him.

"That was heavenly," Sally sighed half an hour later, letting Paul towel dry and comb her hair. "I swear Liam cried every time I tried to step into the shower yesterday."

"I put him in his crib," Paul said. "He's sleeping peacefully. I think he sleeps better in his crib and not in the baby carrier moving room to room with you. Let's get you dried off and in a sleep shirt so you can rest for a while. Do you want breakfast first?"

"No, thanks. I really want to rest. When is Mum bringing Livvy home?" Sally asked.

"Not today," Paul said. "We need one more day to get Liam on a schedule." He plaited Sally's hair and put her to bed. "Rest now."

 **August 2007 ~~~** _ **'**_ _ **People show their true colors unintentionally. Pay attention.'**_

"I'll take her to the park," Paul said. "We can have a picnic lunch. You and Liam rest."

"You have to talk to her Paul," Sally said. "I can't have her sneaking into his room and waking him when it's time for her to nap or go to bed."

"I know," Paul said. "I've ordered two interior Dutch doors from the home improvement store. Tomorrow, I need you to take the children to the farm for a couple days. I'll pick up the doors and install them. I'll put the lock to Liam's door on the inside where only you and I can reach and unlock it to get to him. I'll put the lock for Livvy's door on the outside where she can't reach to let herself out when we put her to bed. Since she's taken to wandering around the house, I'm putting locks on the attic and basement doors. We don't need her falling down basement stairs."

"I love you," Sally said, kissing his cheek. "You always have a solution."

 _'My solution will require extra installation time so I can have some private time too,'_ Paul thought as he smiled at Sally. He pried one of the pieces of paneling away from the wall in the attic and celebrated when he found storage space behind it. It would hold a chair and a steamer trunk. He would lean the two replaced doors against the wall to cover where he had loosened the paneling. He purchased extra thick plywood to lay down across the rafters. If Sally asked, he was attempting to winterproof the attic.

The installation of the doors, plywood and door locks was scheduled for tomorrow. He knew where to buy a steamer trunk which would hold his mannequin, some lingerie and composition books. He would have the only key to the steamer trunk. He arranged the paneling to slide open and closed as he needed to access the storage space. An extra baby monitor for the hallway by the attic door and blackout drapes…Paul was prepared to resume some of his extra-curricular activities.

 **October 5, 2007 ~~~ '** _ **Live to the point of tears**_ **.' Albert Camus**

"I won't argue the pros and cons of suicide with you," the caller said.

"I don't want that either. I want you to have an easy passing, one which will not haunt your family for the rest of their lives." Paul said.

"So, you think not bothering to leave a note is selfish?" She asked.

"Yes," Paul said. "I think it is selfish not to leave a note. Your suicide will leave many unanswered questions. Unless you leave a note, which explains why; your family and friends may be in therapy for the rest of their lives."

"You make it sound like suicide is selfish," the young woman argued. "I'm not being selfish…I'm tired…I don't want to live in pain anymore."

"Then your family needs to know you cannot live with the pain anymore. They need to know the situation. Isn't there a family member or friend who would help you with this? You want to have funeral directives in place. When I die, I want to be cremated and my ashes spread at sea, on a sunny summer day. You want to have a will in place. You want to have medical directives if you change your mind and call for medical help. You need to have a Do Not Resuscitate order on file with your physician. You don't want to leave anything embarrassing laying around for your family to find."

"You are talking about a checklist of things to do," she sighed.

"Perhaps," Paul said. "You need to develop a list of things to do – settle your finances and pay for your funeral. If you want to be cremated, not buried; write it down somewhere. If you don't want roses at your funeral, write it down. If you want a certain poem or Bible passage read, write it down. If you want rock music played instead of religious; write it down. If you want a celebration of life dinner to say goodbye to everyone you love instead of a funeral after you're dead, do that."

"Maybe I'll start that list tomorrow," she sighed. "I'm tired and going to bed."

"Sweet dreams, and if you decide not to prepare for your passing in advance, at least leave a note to your family that you love them." Paul advised.

"I'm telling everyone in my cancer support group to call you," she said. "You make more sense than anyone else I talk to. They're all positive attitudes and spouting affirmations. All of us need someone like you… someone who listens and doesn't fall apart when we discuss death."

"The name is Paul; I'm here all night on Friday night." He hid the smile which threatened to reveal the pleasure he felt from her call.

 **~~~ October 6**

Sally planned to return to work tonight; her maternity leave was over. She would work five ten-hour shifts Saturday through Wednesday. Her first and last hours of her shift concentrated on her assistant nursing supervisor position. Tonight, Paul would have quality time with his mannequin, composition books and souvenirs. Just as he used to have Friday nights in the storage unit when Livvy was small; he would have Saturday nights in the attic while Liam was a baby.

Paul waited for one hour after Sally went to work. Liam and Livvy were asleep. He worked off nervous energy by picking up the house. He retrieved a basket and filled it with toys from the lounge. He straightened the lounge and put newspapers to recycle. He did the dishes, cleared the counters and wiped down the dining table. He carried the toy basket upstairs and set it in Livvy's room by the door.

He retrieved his prowling backpack and removed the black panties and stockings from _LC_. He turned on the spare baby monitor in the hall and took the receiver to the attic. Quietly, he moved the doors away from the paneling and retrieved his steamer trunk and chair…realizing he needed to purchase a second chair for himself. He slipped down to his office and carried his desk chair to the attic. He retrieved his laptop also; he might want to view the secret hidden file to view his past prowling successes.

Once he assembled the mannequin, he spent time dressing her in various lingerie. He knew the lingerie made him sexually tense, but tonight he wanted to experiment. He performed the calming, stress-relieving exercises he used before he prowled. He continued the exercises and deep breathing until he felt more relaxed and calm.

He realized his sexual satisfaction lately had been white knuckles, clenched teeth and held breath at the time of his release. Tonight, he wanted to concentrate on what his cock felt…feeling his release through his cock and not through other physical actions of his body. By remaining calm, his concentrated release was the most satisfaction he felt in years. He cleaned himself with _LC's_ black panties, pulled his black boxers back on and began redressing his mannequin.

Once he dressed her in _Rose Red_ and _Snow White's_ lingerie…he was amazingly hard again. He practiced breathing calmly, stripping slowly and taking his time to achieve another extremely satisfying release. He ejaculated in the pair of electric blue boyshorts he stole from the pediatric nurse. He enjoyed a post-release euphoria which he let control his body and mind until it flowed away.

When his consciousness returned to normal; he redressed in his black silky boxers and robe. He put his toys, the monitor, office chair and laptop away. He moved the doors back into position, guarding the moveable paneling. He locked the attic door, knowing he would play again next Saturday.

He washed the soiled panties with a load of towels. When they were dry, he folded the panties and hid them in his prowling backpack. He folded the towels and put them away. He checked the doors and windows, checked the children and went to their master bedroom. He fell asleep before two o'clock, on top of the duvet, his arms wrapped around his pillow. When Sally returned home; Paul did not wake despite Sally's best efforts. She stroked his muscular back through his silky robe and closed her eyes.

 **December 2007 ~~~** _ **'The pleasure isn't in doing the thing; the pleasure is in planning it.' –**_ **John Green** _ **, Paper Towns**_

Sally thought Paul was working; he made sure not to schedule any appointments this Friday. He wanted time to 'people' watch in addition to Christmas shopping. He bought Sally soft silk sleep shirts in peach, apricot, salmon, mango and melon as his personal gift to her. He bought her a new watch with a powder blue leather band to match her hospital scrubs. She could open the watch on Christmas Day at her parent's house. The children's gift to her was a magnetic picture frame for her work locker which held a wonderful fall picture CC took of the children at farm.

His personal anniversary gift to her was two weeks of silk and satin bra and panty sets in varying shades of blue to coordinate with her scrubs. She stopped breast feeding Liam in early November. He bought her a spa basket of lavender and vanilla bath products and candles, which she could open around the children or her parents. He bought good white wine for Christmas and bath night with Sally. He bought John and CC a twelve-bottle wine rack for their Christmas gift. He could buy them wine for their birthdays, anniversaries, and Christmases to come. It would make gift buying easier.

Taking up residence at the coffee court, he began drawing pictures of brunettes with notes about their appearance, hair, eyes, walk, mannerisms and conversations with others. Midway in his 'people' watching, a brunette sat at the table next to him. She pulled a handful of things out of her purse before she went to the queue to order a venti vanilla latte with an extra shot.

He picked up one of her business cards which floated to the floor. Katherine 'Kat' Morgan, CEO Morgan Marble. He looked her up on the internet before she returned to her table. She was a stonecutter and an artist. She had several lovely pieces for sale on her website. One third of her site was for headstones and memorials, one third of the site was for outdoor marble statuary for fine homes, and one third of the site was her artistic endeavors.

When it was time for him to go, he paused by her table. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to interrupt…" Paul spoke to _KM_. She looked up at him with deep set denim blue eyes. She appeared to be athletic. "I noticed your wreath…" He also noticed her almost almond-shaped eyes, her oval face with translucent skin, her long hair caught in a left ponytail with sweeping bangs. She had long, lovely fingers and well-shaped hands.

"Fabulous, isn't it?" _KM_ said. "I bought it from the florist shop as you enter the mall. They are having a sale."

"Thank you – I need one for our front door," he said; gathering his shopping bags.

"They are also running a gift wrapping center," she said, looking at his shopping bags.

"Thank you," he said sincerely and walked away. He couldn't wait to start a new composition book featuring her… _her erect posture…her melodic voice…her beautiful skin…and the long hair he imagined to be soft to the touch._

When Paul had time that week, he drove past _KM's_ business. He observed her at lunch time one day, locking up the shop. He followed her to a house off Lisburn Road. He noted the address. He would add her route to his morning runs.

A few days before Christmas, Paul broke into her home after she left to go to the shop. He broke in via the back door, and had slipped less than ten feet up the hall when a young woman walked out from a room at the top of the stairs, "Who's there? Kat?" She listened, carefully. Paul froze and flattened himself against a wall.

.

"I'm calling the police!" She yelled. He could hear her punching 999 into her mobile. "This is Kay Morgan, there's an intruder in my home. No, I didn't see him, I heard him break in the back door. I'm locking myself in my room, and calling my sister." She gave them the address. "No, I told you, I didn't see him. I'm blind. I have excellent hearing which is how I heard him break in." Her voice faded and he heard an upstairs door slam and lock. He dashed down the hall, out the back door and across the yard to the copse of trees lining the alleyway. He ran until he reached the Botanical Gardens, and then he walked around the Botanical Garden to cool off and watch for police cruising the area before he ran home. _'You must keep prowling to the dusk and dark,'_ he scolded himself. _'Daylight prowling will get you caught. You have proof of that. Control yourself.'_

He called Sally; this was her day to volunteer at Livvy's preschool. Joan was watching Liam for her. They had a panel of doctors, dentists, etc. examining children before the holidays. He stripped down to his boxers and went to the attic. He spent two hours calming himself by viewing his hidden file on his laptop. He destroyed the _KM_ composition book; dropping the pieces of it inside a fast food bag and dropping it into a trash receptacle on his way to check in at work.

 **XXX**

Christmas Eve, after the children were in bed, Paul scrubbed the bathroom. He ran a hot bubble bath for Sally. He uncorked the wine and took it and two glasses to the bathroom. He lit the candles, turned on soft music and pulled on his silky boxers. "Your bath is ready milady," He reached for her hand.

After her bath, Paul carefully dried Sally while urging her to finish her wine. He put her in a silky sleep shirt and took her to bed. He started a slow seduction of her body, waiting for her to pass out. He wasn't nearly finished with her when he heard Liam fussing on the baby monitor.

 _This is the singularly worst holiday season ever._ He pulled on cotton sleep pants and a t-shirt and checked on his son. ' _I'm glad I decided not to go prowling tonight.'_

 **XXX**

Paul woke when he felt Liam being lifted off his chest.

"What are you doing?" Sally looked at her robe laid across his chest.

He sat up and handed the robe to her. She handed him Liam and slipped it on. "He wouldn't settle. When I laid your robe on my chest; he snuggled into it and fell back asleep."

"What about…" Sally started to ask.

"Livvy said since brother wasn't in his bed; she didn't have to be in hers. She laid down and looked at the Christmas tree and fell asleep."

"You didn't put the presents out?" Sally asked.

"I was watching babies and fell asleep myself," Paul defended himself.

"I will get the presents," Sally said. She disappeared into their bedroom and came back with six boxes which she slid under the tree. Then she sat an unwrapped baby doll on top of one present and an unwrapped stuffed dinosaur on top of another.

"I fell asleep; didn't I?" Sally asked.

"It's all right," Paul sighed, and accepted the apologetic quick kiss from Sally. "You fell asleep. They woke up. Toddlers don't sleep as much as you think or wish they would."

"I'll make it up to you when they go down for a nap this afternoon," Sally said.

"I don't think so," Paul said coolly. "We are due at your parents at noon. We'll be there until at least five or six. Later even, if you give in to your mother's demands that we stay for dinner." He cuddled Liam in his arms.

"I'll make it up to you tonight," Sally offered.

"Not necessary," his disinterested voice stung a little. "I think when the kids are put down for the night; I'll have an early night also."

Sally knelt and laid her head on Paul's knee. "I'll give you a good shower," she offered.

"Don't fuss," he said quietly, stroking her hair so she would leave him alone. "Why don't you start breakfast? I'm sure we can both use coffee. Liam needs a clean diaper. He'll want a bottle soon enough." He sighed. "Why don't you warm a bottle for Liam. I'll give him quick bath, so he's ready to go when we are. If you get the Christmas stockings, we'll be ready when Livvy wakes."

Paul bathed and changed a sleepy but happy Liam. "It's nice to know I haven't lost my touch, little man." He slid Liam into a blue blanket sleeper and took him to the lounge. He laid a blanket down in the middle of the sofa and laid Liam on it; taking the bottle from Sally to feed Liam.

Sally sat silently on the other side of the sofa after she gave Paul a mug of coffee. He sipped his coffee and fed Liam, gazing from time to time at the blinking Christmas tree lights.

 **January 5, 2008 ~~~** _ **'It's scary what a smile can hide.'**_

Paul's current distance surprised Sally. They had not shared a real conversation since Christmas Day at her parents. He basically laid down the law while they were gathering gifts from the boot of the car. He was not giving in to her mother's demands that they stay for dinner. He was taking their children home while it was still light outside. Their children were sleeping in their own beds. Either she could break the news to her mother…or he would.

They had not been intimate since a week before Christmas Eve. In the past, he always encouraged Sally to vent about her day. New babies, deceased babies, and distraught parents. She gave the parents business cards for the center and encouraged them to talk to Paul about their pain because 'he was such a good listener'. She did not know he fed off her emotional pain and angst, like a vampire feeding on fresh blood. He fed off her genuine concern for her patients and their families. Right now; he fed off her sexual frustration.

Sally did not understand why Paul was so distant, but he was never in bed when she returned home. He was always dressed for a morning run or he was sleeping on the couch in his study. When her parents offered to watch Livvy and Liam for their anniversary, Sally jumped at the opportunity. She arranged to have two days off to spend time with Paul. She hired a house cleaning service to give the place a good cleaning while he was gone to work Friday. She purchased a supply of gourmet freezer meals and several bottles of good white wine.

She did not know he took the day off to go 'people' watch at one of the local malls. He kept his mobile turned on, so if she tried to reach him, he could answer. If she asked about background noise, he would lie and say he was shopping for her anniversary present while he had a couple hours between appointments at work. He sat at the coffee court, with his composition book and art pencils, capturing the likenesses of over a dozen brunettes. Several of them were in groups with other ladies; probably taking advantage of post-holiday sales. He locked his composition book and pencils in his backpack and headed for home. Between the brunettes at Christmas and the brunettes today, Paul filled a composition book with new fuel for his fantasies.

Paul was surprised to come home to a gourmet dinner, cold wine, candles, and Sally in tight jeans and a cashmere sweater. He was happy about Livvy and Liam staying at their grandparents for the weekend. He called the Suicide Helpline and begged off, claiming a sore throat and headache. He let Sally wash his hair at the start of his shower. She made him kneel so she could reach his hair. However; he kept his mouth occupied on her body; which distracted her a bit from her tasks.

After dinner, he gave her the spa basket and ran a bubble bath for her. He enjoyed washing her hair, bathing her and pouring liberal amounts of wine for her. He stripped down to silk boxers to give her some eye candy while he bathed her. She passed out while he was giving her a massage. He enjoyed using her body the way he planned on Christmas Eve. Twenty days of no sex had turned Sally into a desperate, needy and compliant sex toy for Paul.

It was a wake-up call for Paul. His life was full of children and adult responsibilities. He needed Sally and the children to help him project an _average, ordinary happily married man with children_ persona. He needed to keep himself under control. Part of being in control was being an attentive listener when Sally needed to talk about work.

He didn't dare prowl on bath nights…Liam might wake…Livvy might wake…and he did not have a valid reason for being gone while Sally was passed out. Prowling would be limited to early morning runs, or late-night runs when Sally was home with the children.


	9. Chapter 9

I do not own characters or plots from _The Fall_. I have just taken them for a dark run.

There will be triggers _(sexual content, moral ambiguity, violent content, unsettling dark quotes)_. It is necessary to advance the story. I do not make light of Paul Spector's actions.

 **Chapter Nine**

 **May 29, 2010 ~~~~ '** _ **Even a happy life cannot be without darkness**_ **.' – Carl Jung**

Sally wanted to go out drinking and dancing. Paul did not mind…but he had two conditions. First, they were dressing up, and second…CC and John would not babysit. Sally spoke with people at work and then to neighborhood acquaintances. Three of them recommended her friend's daughter. Lisa Benedetto, a recent widow who had bereavement counseling where Paul worked, guaranteed her fourteen-year-old daughter, Katie, was available.

"Did you have a nice time?" Katie asked.

"Lovely," Sally smiled. "Paul will walk you home."

Paul gave Katie twenty pounds for watching Livvy and Liam. "Four hours, two children…is that enough?"

"It's too much," Katie protested, attempting to give it back.

"No, keep it. It means you'll babysit for us again in the future," Paul smiled. "Besides, I appreciate you clearing all their toys from the lounge."

Katie returned his smile. She gathered her school books and loaded her backpack; standing awkwardly by the door.

"Wait for me," Paul whispered in Sally's ear. "I want to peel that little black dress off you."

"I'll wait for you," Sally smiled. Then she whispered in his ear, "You need to talk to Katie. Lisa's worried that she isn't coping with her father's death."

Paul nodded as he pulled away from her. He opened the door for Katie and followed her to the sidewalk. It was a full moon; Paul might be able to prowl after he walked Katie home. Paul talked to Katie about school, friends and her relationship with her mother.

As they reached the door of Katie's home, she broke down into tears. "Is your mum at home?" Paul asked.

Katie shook her head no, her hand shaking while trying to unlock the door. "Mum's out with friends. She couldn't bear to be alone tonight. I think it's the anniversary of when she and my dad first met, or something like that." Her tears continued to fall. Paul sat down on the step and pulled Katie down to sit next to him. She leaned her head against Paul's shoulder and wept. Paul leaned his cheek against her head and wrapped an arm around her shuddering shoulders. He breathed the spicy pears smell of her shampoo, and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her soft hair against his cheek.

"Enough, Katie," Paul murmured when her sobs lessened and she struggled to breathe evenly. He led her through a deep breathing exercise; which was designed to flood her brain with endorphins. When he felt her stiff body relax a little, it was time to finish this exercise. "Let's go in," Paul said, standing and giving Katie a hand up. She easily unlocked the door this time.

"You need to put on sweats, to keep you warm," he said. "Bring back a cold, damp washing flannel and your hairbrush, with a hair elastic." She went upstairs and he went to the kitchen. Paul found a bottle of cold water and a partially eaten bar of dark chocolate. He waited for her in the lounge. When she returned, he sat her on the floor at his feet, between his knees with her back toward him. "Wash your face with the cold washing flannel." She complied. He exchanged the water bottle and chocolate for her hairbrush. "Drink your water and eat the chocolate."

He brushed her hair 100 times. "I do this for Livvy and Sally sometimes. It soothes them." When he was finished, he plaited her hair and finished it with a hair elastic secured on the handle of the brush. "You need to clean your teeth really well. Make sure there is no chocolate left in your braces. Rest now, Katie. Everything is better in the morning light. Be sure to lock the door behind me." Paul left after he heard Katie lock the front door.

Paul strolled away from Katie's house. He remembered being fourteen. He remembered the incarceration of his youth. Mostly, he remembered the thrill of observing women and the need for sexual release while watching them. He remembered his early, clumsy attempts at breaking in, stealing their lingerie. He took a roundabout way home, observing lit windows. Paul observed a pretty brunette, in a slinky nightie, kissing a man goodnight. He told her he was working on a white paper and would come to bed when he got past a difficult part. She wandered off…and with two clicks of his mouse, the man was viewing porn again. ' _Stupid shit_ ,' Paul shook his head and quietly walked toward the back of the house. He watched at her bedroom window as she applied lotion to her arms and legs before she settled in bed and turned out the light. It was time for Paul to head home. Sally was waiting for his attention.

He woke Sally, who was napping on the couch. Sally asked what took so long. Paul lied; he claimed he thought about her little black dress, black underwear and stockings. He got a massive hard-on and could not bear to walk. He claimed he sat on a park bench; looked at the stars in the sky and breathed calmly until his erection finally subsided so he could walk home.

Sally offered to fix his problem and started up the stairs…stripping off her dress…slip…bra…and shoes before he caught up with her, carrying her clothes to their bedroom. He demanded she strip off her panties and leave the stockings and suspender on.

He suggested she strip him. He caressed parts of her body while she removed his clothes. When he was naked; she dressed him in his black silky boxers and robe. He ordered her to lay on their bed, her legs crossed and her hands tucked behind her head. He returned to their room with a cold bottle of white wine and two glasses. He turned off the lights, locked the door and opened the drapes…moonlight spilling into the room.

Paul sat on the bed and she knelt on the floor between his legs. He kissed her senseless and asked her to please him with her mouth. He edged, making her stop to give her a sip of cold wine. Her cool mouth felt wonderful on his cock. He managed to keep his hands off her head…fisting them in the duvet until the last minute. When he was ready to explode, he caught her hands…entwining their fingers and he held her hands with his on the back of her head…immobilizing her so he could fuck her mouth until she gasped and struggled for breath while he exploded down her throat. He held himself in her mouth until both their breathing calmed.

Paul released her fingers, handing her the glass of wine, caressing her hair until she emptied it. Then he lifted her onto the bed, kissing her senseless again before his mouth worked its way down her body. He pinned her thighs open with his strong arms and returned the favor…pleasing her with his mouth until she orgasmed several times.

"Please," Sally begged. "Fuck me, baby…please fuck me." Paul began a hard, fast fuck, holding his arms behind her back…cupping his hands around her shoulders…immobilizing her again.

He closed his eyes and remembered tonight's brunette. Her short thin nightie revealed the outline of her body when she passed by the table lamp in the home office. He remembered her slow application of lotion to her beautiful pale skin. He felt himself on the brink of release and held his breath, releasing it only when he felt thunder in his veins, lightening flash down his spine and his control flowing away like the ocean receding before a tsunami slams the shore. He groaned his release, his face against Sally's neck; her lavender fragrance and skin warmed by their coupling.

He dressed Sally in a soft sleep shirt…and apologized that it had been so long since he had an adult date with his best girl. Slipping his silky boxers back on; he was guaranteed to be hard in the morning and hoped to wake Sally with an energetic early morning romp.

 **July 2011 ~~~** **'** _ **Night does not show things, it suggests them. It disturbs and surprises us with its strangeness. It liberates forces within us which are dominated by our reason during the daytime**_ **.' - Brassai**

"I need to clean the house for Liam's birthday party tomorrow," Sally insisted.

"I have appointments this morning," Paul said, dressing for the day. "I can't take the kids to the park, not if you want me to pick up Liam's bike, his birthday cake, and the rest of the food and libations for the party. I need time after dark to assemble the bike. Then I can help clean."

"I'll ask Mum to take them until party time tomorrow," Sally said.

Paul smiled to himself. Work would be concluded by noon and he could spend the afternoon 'people' watching at the mall. Liam's bike, purchased and assembled already; waited in the storage unit for him to pick it up. It would fit in the boot of his car. He would pick up the cake, party food and drink on the way home from the mall. When Sally left for work tonight…Paul was prowling. He was thrilled Liam was turning five. He felt his need for brunettes and lingerie like a bruise.

 **XXX**

The mall was a bevy of brunette beauties…all in summer dresses or shorts. He filled a composition book of faces, and thoughts about them. He listened to snippets of conversations around him. He listened carefully to a brunette who laughed easily with friends at the table next to his. "Housewarming party tomorrow," she gave them the address on Sandringham Street off Lisburn Road. "We have to do it tomorrow because I'm off to visit my parents in Dublin for ten days. I promised to bring pictures of the new house." Paul noted the address in his composition book. He would add it to his running route for the next week.

 _Project FB: round face…curvy…average height…ocean blue eyes…shoulder length, layered hair…_

 **~~~ a week later**

Paul hired Katie to watch the kids for two hours the next Saturday night. He told Katie he needed to go for a run, and then stop by the gym near his work and have a workout and sauna before running home. He had put the kids to bed. He promised Katie twenty pounds if she would pick up the lounge, do the dishes and clear the table and counters. He gathered a load of the kids' clothes and put them in the washer. He told Katie he would put them in the dryer when he returned.

Paul lock bumped _FB's_ back door a week after her housewarming. He loved slipping through her home. Her storage room was a disaster. She stacked boxes she had not unpacked from the move. Her diary contained a list of things she needed to complete since the move. Adding a home alarm system was on the list. Her journal entries were intermittent due to the move. She had a stack of photos on her desk, with a date stamp in the corner. He noted names on the backside of the photos and looked them up in her address book – each of them was listed with a man, which eliminated them from his prowl list. Her bookshelves were not organized. Someone just emptied boxes onto shelves and left it for _FB_ to organize when she had time.

 _30…physical therapist…Royal Victoria Hospital…comfortable contemporary décor…reads classic literature…watches classic English period movies…listens to UK musicians: Coldplay, Snow Patrol, U2…_

Paul ignored her inexpensive acetate, tricot and rayon lingerie and searched for higher quality – which he found. He was tempted to take the entire drawerfulsilky _Curvy Kate_ lingerie. Instead he settled on a set of melon and black lingerie. He knew which underwear he would buy for Sally in the future.

He laid a set of blush pink pajamas on the bed, with the wrists of the top tied with a black silk stocking and the legs of the bottoms tied with another black silk stocking. He slipped the remote control for her vibrating egg in the pocket of the top, and the egg inside at the crotch of the bottoms. He set a tray on her bedside table with a candle, an unopened bottle of champagne, two flutes, extra batteries for the remote, and a French tickler condom from a pleasure pack in her bathroom.

 **The following Saturday ~~~** _ **'Darkness, darkness be my pillow; Take my head and let me sleep,' -**_ **Robert Plant,** _ **Darkness, Darkness**_

A shrieking scream interrupted Paul's playing with his mannequin in the attic. Sally was at work, and he thought he would have several hours of uninterrupted time. Livvy was having a night terror. Once Livvy was back asleep, Paul returned to the attic. He packed everything away and hid it behind the paneling. Memories of night terrors from when he was a child overwhelmed him. His Saturday quality time in the attic had been interrupted and he needed to decompress. Sally didn't know it yet…but she was in for a fast and furious fuck when she came to bed tomorrow morning.

Paul did not know Sally lost a set of babies that night. Twins, Jaylen and Jordan were taken off ventilators at midnight and passed shortly afterwards. Sally gave the parents Paul's business cards. She would go home, cry in his arms and let him love her cares and concerns away.

July first Sally was promoted to a neonatal nurse supervisor. She ran a team of professionals who cared for a 30-bed unit. She made more money than Paul; but it was never an issue between them. Sometimes she felt Paul worked too many hours.

Sometimes Paul felt Sally worked too many hours. He felt she had self-confidence issues which drove her to work very hard. Her need for perfectionism took her to the top of her career. Paul didn't have that dedication, but he did not resent her success either. He appreciated her work ethics and her schedule which currently allowed him some time to prowl or time to play with his mannequin.

 **October 2011 ~~~ '** _ **twas like a l ion at my door'**_

At a parent-teacher conference, Olivia's teacher commented about how tired Olivia looked some days. She recommended blood tests to see if Olivia was anemic. Sally made an appointment with a doctor to discuss Olivia's night terrors. Dr. Alyce Shea had been recommended by their regular pediatrician. Paul tried to tell Sally he experienced night terrors as a child; but Sally was frantic about Olivia's sleeping or lack of sleeping habits.

Molly O'Brien did a double take when Paul Spector entered her office. His gorgeous face and physique caused her to have extremely sexual and not professional thoughts. "Molly O'Brien, Dr. Shea's physician's assistant. I usually take the family history from the father while Dr. Shea examines the patient and talks to the mother." She shook his hand. His grip was strong. His hand was large. making her hand feel petite in comparison.

She could have been Rose's twin. Her subtle perfume invaded his brain and roared in his blood. "Paul Spector," he introduced himself. He tried to concentrate on the office décor and not Molly O'Brien; but it did not work. While he answered her questions, providing family history and answering questions about Olivia's night terrors…he observed her.

She had chocolate brown eyes with lush lashes. Her thick straight hair, a rich sable color, looked soft and touchable. She was dressed in a navy pencil skirt, hose, and heels. She wore an ocean blue cashmere twin set. She wore a classy single strand of pearls and pearl stud earrings. Her hot pink stethoscope hung from around her neck; drawing attention to the decent set of breasts hiding under her clothes.

"Did you have night terrors as a child," Molly asked. She had wonderfully straight white teeth framed by a pair of rose pink lips.

"Yes," Paul said. Molly's lips reminded him of Rose…and a long-submerged memory of Rose using her mouth on him destroyed his cool, professional demeanor for several long seconds. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Did any of your siblings have night terrors?" Molly asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind a perfect pink ear.

' _What would her hair feel like, slipping through my fingers?'_ Paul thought. "Both Sally and I are only children." Paul said. "My parents are deceased. Sally's parents live on a farm outside Belfast."

They covered Sally's pregnancy history, Olivia's birth, Olivia's formative years, Olivia's shot record, her school records, her interests and the family dynamics. Molly was especially interested in the sibling relationship between Olivia and Liam. Paul explained Sally worked as a neonatal nurse. Her shifts varied depending on situations with the babies and patients. He worked as a bereavement counselor. He explained his schedule varied depending on appointments. He normally worked a twelve-hour shift on Friday night for the local suicide helpline. He volunteered other nights as needed. He gave Molly a handful of business cards for the bereavement center in case she knew someone who needed their services.

Paul felt the axis of his world shift and realign when Molly squeezed his hand goodbye. He could not help himself; he watched her fine ass walk away. He watched those toned legs, and high heels. He pictured her wearing nothing but thigh-high stockings and stilettos.

As she led him to the exam room, he secretly raised his hand to his nose and breathed in the scent she left on him...the lemon smell faded first, to be replaced with rose and amber. He would research it…not because he wanted to buy some for Sally…but because it was a siren's call which intrigued him.

Molly handed Dr. Shea her notes from the interview with Paul. She took Olivia to the children's play center so Dr. Shea could consult with Sally and Paul.

"Night terrors are more common in boys than girls and tend to run in families. They are prevalent between the ages of four and twelve. The exact cause is unknown, but they can be triggered by stress, sleep deprivation, fatigue and can accompany illness and fever."

"A set bedtime schedule and ritual are important, since sleep deprivation can be a contributing factor," Dr. Shea suggested. "If her bed is on a common wall with a hall, bathroom, or a lounge, she may have trouble falling asleep because of the ambient noise from the other room. Additionally, declutter her room and put up blackout drapes. If outside ambient noise is an issue, consider a sound barrier for her window."

Paul appeared to take notes; but he had the conversation app activated on his mobile. Instead, he was taking notes on his encounter with Molly O'Brien.

"A warm bath before bed, warm pajamas. No excessive physical activity one hour before bed. That does not mean put her in front of a tv or computer or tablet which can interfere with her natural sleep cycle. Allow her to read for a half hour before she goes to sleep. Ensure she has physical activity during the day and eats healthy. No excessively spicy foods for dinner." Dr. Shea advised.

"I know it seems overwhelming, and I will give you brochures which list the same things I'm telling you. No spooky movies, no ghost stories, no news, no newspapers. Curtail outside influences. Shift her questions. Since you both have jobs which deal with death; try not to discuss them around her."

"We try not to discuss our work around her," Sally said.

"If she asks, tell her everything is fine and distract her. If she sees an accident and asks questions; distract her. If she persists in questioning you, don't succumb to answering honestly to get her to be quiet. Explain the police or authorities are handling it and she needn't worry. Don't tell her to be quiet and let you concentrate on driving, because that can be a stress trigger. You can distract her by asking what you should make for dinner, or what would she like for snack when you get home. Ask her to describe her school day. Ask her what she'd like to do over school break."

"Oh, I don't think so," Sally said. "Her comment would be to abandon her brother with me and her grandparents while Daddy takes her to the ocean or Euro Disney. She's definitely a Daddy's girl."

"Sally," Paul said, shaking his head. "You know I'm trying to have family outings with all of us. I only take her to the park by herself when she's been very good to Liam and helpful with you."

"Establish a routine, a schedule. I advise her to play with her brother until dinner...and nothing gruesome like war, soldiers and battles. If they aren't playing outside; invest in board games and puzzles. After dinner, while he is bathing, she can do her homework. Then she bathes, prepares for bed, lays out her school clothes and supplies for the next day, and is in bed by eight o'clock. Let her read until 8:30. At that time, you go to her room, administer last kiss, remove book, tuck her in, turn off light, and close the door. She is Year Two in school, correct?"

Sally nodded.

"She needs at least twenty minutes of homework daily, in addition to reading. If she doesn't have work from school; have workbooks which are age appropriate for her to complete." Dr. Shea stated.

"What do we do after a night terror?" Sally asked.

"Speak softly to her. A cool cloth to wash her face, a cool drink of water, children's paracetamol if a fever is present. Teach her slow, rhythmic breathing. If she is out of bed, put her back to bed when you can. Calmly wait it out. Sometimes a massage or quiet stroking will calm her and enable sleep."

"Sally takes her to our bed," Paul said. "With cuddles, and quiet talking, she goes back to sleep."

"I'm not fond of children climbing in with their parents," Dr. Shea said.

"I go to her room and sleep in her bed. Sometimes Sally joins me. The night terrors disrupt our sleep, but we deal with it together. If we had to deal with it by ourselves, it would be worse. When Livvy falls asleep; we are loath to move her for fear she will wake." Paul explained.

"With night terrors, there can be other issues which you must handle...occasional lying, refusal to go to bed, refusal to stay in bed, refusal to behave, and exhibiting poor judgement. Some of those behaviors are from sleep deprivation. If you are experiencing sleep deprivation also, you may be short-tempered with the children and exhibit poor decision-making skills also. I don't recommend asking what caused the night terror unless it hasn't happened for a few weeks. Then I would determine if it's from a nightmare or perhaps stress. Poor school grades can stress a child." Dr. Shea advised.

"I don't know what chores she has around the house – but at eight years old, she should be able to fold laundry, help with dishes, set the table for meals, pick up her room, dust the furniture, etc." She gave them brochures to read. "Don't carry those out of here in your hand. Put them away in your purse. Don't let her see them. She's already anxious about this doctor visit. Let's not exacerbate things."

They retrieved Olivia from the play center, and shook hands goodbye with Dr. Shea. Molly held the door open for them and Paul could not resist. He 'stumbled' and brushed against Molly on his way out the door. It was a stupid thing to do, because Sally fussed over him, blaming his clumsiness on a lack of sleep.

"Don't fuss, Sally," he inclined his head toward Olivia. Sally gave a small nod and let it go.

"Let's stop at the toy store, Livvy," Sally suggested. "I want to teach you some board games and card games I loved as a child."

"What did you play as a child, Daddy?" Olivia asked.

"I played with cars and puzzles inside. Mostly, I was outside on sunny days, playing soccer, running footraces, playing hide and seek." Paul answered. There was no sense in telling her the truth of his childhood. It would upset her and give her night terrors. God knows, it gave him night terrors. "I had chores when I was eight. I had to pick up my things. I put my dirty clothes in the laundry. I could vacuum and dust. I helped with the dishes."

"I had chores when I was eight also. I helped my dad feed the animals. I helped my mom cook dinner. I learned to bake cookies. I set the table. I helped with dishes, too." Sally said.

"Tonight," Paul said, "Let's cook dinner together. I'll teach you to set and clear the table. Mummy can show you how to peel vegetables and make a salad."

"I want pancakes for dinner," Livvy announced.

"Perfect," Sally said. "I can teach you how to measure ingredients, break eggs, whisk milk into the batter. Tonight, you and Daddy can decide what we'll eat for the rest of the week, and create a shopping list. We'll go grocery shopping. You will learn to put groceries away."

Livvy groaned and flung herself against the back seat.

"Livvy," Paul said quietly, "from now on, if Mummy tells you no, or tells you to do something…you do it. You don't wait and ask me, hoping I'll countermand Mummy's decisions. Mummy and I will discuss this. If you try to pit us against one another, there will be consequences."

"Consequences," Livvy's voice squeaked.

"Consequences," Sally said. "Extra chores, time outs or forfeiting your turn to select telly shows."

Livvy flung herself against the door and stared out the car window.

 **XXX**

Paul researched Molly's perfume and was shocked to learn it was £160 for 100 ml. He could not find a place which sold samples. He was disappointed when her scent faded from his hand before he could draw a suggestive picture of Molly. However, the memory of her face, her hair, those legs, and her smell…it was one of the most erotic sets of drawings he ever made…and would fuel his fantasies for days. Despite her accomplishments; she was just eye candy. She was stunning, provocative. She reminded him of Rose…and that dark memory invaded his blood and his dreams.

 **November 2011 ~~~ '** _ **For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble'**_ **\- Dante,** _ **Inferno, Canto I**_

Paul was late. Sally stayed late at the hospital, taking care of situations from her night shift. He could not make Livvy and Liam move faster this morning. He was due at a _How to Prevent Client Addiction_ seminar which focused on active intervention forms of bereavement counseling instead of prescribing sleeping pills or anti-anxiety pills. He needed it for continuing education credits to meet his work performance standards. Otherwise, he would have blown it off, and spent the day at the mall; finding a new project.

He stepped into the lift at the university health center…and was overwhelmed by the smell of rose and jasmine. He moved to the corner of the lift behind a thirty-ish dark-haired brunette with a shoulder-length pageboy hairstyle. The rose and jasmine scent wafted from her toward him. He followed the group off the lift, and observed a display outside a small auditorium. He identified the brunette from a _Human Health and Genetics Panel_ display outside the door to the auditorium. The panel consisted of five speakers. She was one: _Fiona Gallagher, Associate Professor._ She held the door open for the group and turned to Paul when he paused. She flashed a brilliant smile, captured behind pouty rosy lips. Her perfume invaded his senses again. "Are you attending?"

He watched her swallow and admired the lovely line of her throat. "No," he apologized. "I'm on the wrong floor, I think my seminar is on a different floor." He pretended to check his mobile phone while she entered the auditorium. He took a picture of her information.

At his own seminar, Paul took a seat at the back of the auditorium, and pulled a composition book from his briefcase. _Project FG: 30ish…associate professor…emerald green eyes…clear complexion…rosy-cheeked blushes…white straight teeth when she smiles…wears berry hued lipstick…lovely, long, graceful neck…golden tweed pencil skirt…modest heels…silky cream shirt…belted yellow cardigan sweater._

He researched Fiona Gallagher's teaching schedule. A week later, her teaching schedule in hand; he followed her from the campus to her home. He drove around the area, noting possible escape routes from her home. Each route was well timed. He also knew which routes had no CCTV cameras on businesses or traffic cameras.

 **December 9, 2011 ~~~** **'** _ **Your darkness is a symphony**_ **' - Christopher Poindexter**

Over a week later, Paul followed when _FG_ took a cab from the campus to a pub where she met with friends. He went home, ate dinner with Sally and the children. He dressed for a night shift at the Suicide Hotline…his prowling backpack retrieved from the attic crawlspace above Livvy's room. Slipping into a deserted storage garage just blocks from his home, he stripped and worked out…pushups, running in place, stretching his shoulders and arms, bending his torso. When his fingers stroked his bare thigh…and he felt trails of heat on his skin…he knew he was ready. He dressed in prowling clothes and ran to _Project FG's_ home. Noting her house alarm was not set, Paul tested doors and windows. He pulled himself up onto the balcony of her master bedroom and tested the doors. They swung open, making him grin. He closed and locked them; drawing the drapes.

Her bedroom was decorated in shades of grey with cherry-blossom pink accessories. Her lingerie choices were all-natural fibers; however, none of her lingerie was one color except for the black lingerie. Red with purple, grey with purple or grey with black, hot pink with black or hot pink with grey, yellow with orange, sunny yellow with sky blue, mint green with white, aqua with teal, etc. He was not surprised at the many options she had in black. Most women wore black underwear because they thought men felt it was sexy. He helped himself to a complete set of her black lingerie: underwire bra, bikini panties, suspender and stockings.

He left a set of dark violet and black lingerie with bra, panties and stockings on her bed. However, he laid them crossways on the bed. It looked like one leg was flat on the floor, with one leg crossed over it, with the suspender, panties and bra in place, like she was laying back on the bed. He set a pair of black stilettos on the floor near the lingerie. Her ensuite had a wonderful antique oriental screen...black lacquer and white mother of pearl. He could smell jasmine and rose from her bath products.

He didn't know how long he had, so he sketched the layout of her home and photographed the entrances and exits. Her home was decorated in modern furniture and in black, white and grey colors …accented with bamboo green and sage green pillows, candles, lamps, etc.

She had a top of the line wok, and lots of implements which he had seen in oriental restaurants. Her cupboards contained sesame oil, Chinese Five Spice, soy sauce, hoisin sauce, red pepper flakes and other ingredients for preparing oriental dishes. She had a variety of rice, tea, and oriental noodles.

 _FG_ had frozen bags of stir fry vegetable combinations along with containers of diced meats, whole shrimp and scallops. She had bottles of sake in the cupboard and Tsing Tao beer in the refrigerator. The refrigerator held a picture of a martini glass holding candied ginger and shrimp cocktail. The recipe for it was under the picture.

He read her journal and snapped pictures of interesting entries. She had lots of casual sex with coworkers and currently had two boyfriends. She was glad for the sexual partners she had. Some people drank to relieve stress. Some people took drugs. Some people ate chocolate. She engaged in vigorous sex to take her mind off her work.

Her journal explained, as an associate professor at a research-intensive university, she felt a lot of stress. She felt she needed to be a workaholic to survive the deadlines, publishing, grants, teaching, and research for her position.

He raided her wine cooler for two bottles of Pinot Grigio. He slipped a spare set of her house keys into his pocket and exited out the back door before she returned home.

 **~~~ Writing in the** _ **Project FG**_ **Book**

"I am not a Sunday morning inside four walls  
with clean blood  
and organized drawers.  
I am the hurricane setting fire to the forests  
at night when no one else is alive  
or awake  
however you choose to see it.  
I live in my own flames  
sometimes burning too bright and too wild  
to make things last  
or handle  
myself or anyone else  
and so I run.  
run run run  
far and wide  
until my bones ache and lungs split  
and it feels good.  
Hear that people? It feels good  
because I am the slave and ruler of my own body  
and I wish to do with it exactly as I please."  
~~~ Charlotte Eriksson ~~~

 **~~~ two days later**

Gold highlights danced in the emerald pools of her eyes. Terror made them pop even more. Her skin, heated by the effort she made to fight him off, smelled like a warm sunny afternoon in the City of Belfast International Rose Garden.

 **December 12, 2011 ~~~ '** _ **When one note is off**_ **...** _ **It eventually destroys the whole symphony.'**_ **\- Shelley,** _ **Ozymandias**_

"Sally, don't fuss," Paul said weakly. "Just leave the cold water and the headache tablets."

"I'm taking the kids to the farm. I don't want them to catch your flu," Sally said. "If it is the flu; I can't be exposed because of the babies. We'll stay at Mum and Dad's until Sunday. Dad will take the kids to school and pick them up. I purchased a supply of soups and juices like you asked. If you are better by Saturday morning, please let me know. I want to finish Christmas shopping. Maybe we can have a nice lunch with one another on Sunday."

"I'm sorry I can't watch the children," He apologized. "I just feel so lousy."

"You are the healthiest person all of us know; never a sick day. If this puts you on your back…we don't dare catch it. I don't know if it's the flu or food poisoning. You complained about your skin hurting and repugnant smells." Sally said.

Paul groaned in his pillow. "I called work and everyone necessary, so you don't have to deal with that. They know I'll be back when I feel better."

"I'll ask Mum to keep Livvy from calling and harassing you every hour. Maybe you can call each night and wish them sweet dreams," Sally smiled. "The kids have two more weeks of school before winter break. Mum and Dad are still planning for us to celebrate Christmas with them."

"I like that idea," Paul said. He already bought and wrapped Sally's Christmas presents. He bought a trio of brushed cotton sleep shirts: a grey and pink plaid, pink, and grey. He bought her a simple gold chain. He bought a gold locket for her to put school pictures of Liam and Livvy in it as their Christmas gift to her. Her gifts were hidden inside a backpack in the trunk of his car.

He took the headache tablets, drank the cold water…and drifted off into dreamless sleep.

Thursday, when he felt better, Paul spent the rest of the afternoon purging his mind and his body of _Project FG_. He destroyed the _Project FG_ composition book by ripping it into shreds along with her lingerie. He set the pieces on fire in a metal bucket outdoors. He didn't want to do it in the tub in the house. His children bathed in that tub; he didn't want them tainted by it.

He hid his prowling backpack and fresh composition books in the attic access in Livvy's room. He would not access the steamer trunk or its contents for a while. The attic was no longer a safe place to play. He changed the doors on Livvy and Liam's rooms. The Dutch doors no longer functioned as needed, especially since Livvy and Liam were tall enough to reach the locks. He removed the plywood floor from the attic and used the pieces to seal unfinished walls in the basement.


	10. Chapter 10

I do not own characters or plots from _The Fall_. I felt like taking them for a dark run.

There will be triggers _(sexual content, moral ambiguity, violent content, unsettling dark quotes)_. It is necessary to advance the story. I do not make light of Paul Spector's actions.

 **XXX**

 **Chapter 10**

 **January 2012 ~~~** _ **'**_ _ **Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings...always darker, emptier and simpler.'**_ **Friedrich Nietzsche**

Paul submitted his resignation to the Suicide Helpline. He listed Sally's growing work responsibilities, his increased client list and problems with Olivia sleeping through the night. They were sorry to lose someone with his background. But truth be told…he might be great with clients; but he wasn't very friendly with staff. He wasn't difficult to work with; he just didn't engage in the lighthearted bantering his colleagues used to relieve stress. Instead, he ran around the block, up the stairs and down the halls to relieve stress. Frankly, for those addicted to chocolate and cigarettes…his health obsession was annoying.

 **XXX**

While Paul's excuse to while away an afternoon was buying an anniversary present for Sally, his main motive was 'people' watching. He recognized his next project in a mall, on the escalator. Her floral perfume had a rose undertone which intrigued him. He enjoyed watching her ass as she walked away. Black skinny jeans, black ankle boots, a black leather jacket, her dark brunette hair bounced with every step she took. She met a couple friends and they laughed as they shopped.

Paul followed the group into a couple stores, learning _AM's_ name from her friends and the store clerks. He bought expensive bubble bath, body lotion, shampoo and half a dozen candles in a light lavender and vanilla scent. He bought Sally a lavender brushed cotton and lace sleep shirt. His last purchase was two very good bottles of white wine with two gourmet takeaway meals. Sally asked her parents to take the children on Saturday night so they could celebrate their anniversary. She thought he was working at the Suicide Helpline. That excuse would give him plenty of time to prowl.

 **February 2012 ~~~ '** _ **Night is a time of rigor, but also of mercy. There are truths which one can see only when it's dark**_ **.' – Isaac Bashevis Singer**

 _Project AM_ required time to research. He discovered she was an architect, and researched her company. He learned which projects the company had scheduled. Viewing the projects did not provide him with _AM's_ schedule.

Paul managed to follow her from the company to her home, but realized the route they took had traffic cameras at the ready. He needed to find a route to and from her home which did not have security measures. While establishing that route, he realized someone else was observing _AM_. He needed to know who… _was it a new boyfriend? Old boyfriend?_ He captured a picture of the man, and further research told him it was her ex-husband. _Did she know he was stalking her? Why was he stalking her?_

Paul researched escape routes from her home, through unsecured streets. It took a week of prowling during his early morning runs. He made cryptic notes to himself on his phone, so he could transfer them to her composition book when the children were in bed and Sally was at work.

 **March 2012 ~~~** _ **'He began to understand darkness: darkness as something solid and real, so much more than a simple absence of light. He felt it touch his skin, questing, moving, exploring: gliding through his mind. It slipped into his lungs, behind his eyes, into his mouth...' –**_ **Neil Gaiman** _ **, Neverwhere**_

Her underwear drawers were like Christmas morning to a neglected child. Luxurious colors and fabrics enticed his senses. He stroked all of them…unable to decide which one…like a child in a sweet shop. Finally, he selected a sheer raspberry silk and lace panty…beautiful, simple, but delicately sexy. He stroked it over his cheeks before stuffing it in his pocket. He found her rose perfume on her dressing table and stopped to smell it…realizing several minutes later that he lost track of time. He could not linger.

 **March 15, 2012 ~~~ '** _ **Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams. Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar, and live, as you never lived before!' -**_ **Charles Hart,** _ **The Phantom of the Opera**_

The elaborate plans of Paul Spector, voyeur and murderer, unfolded in a perverted, sadistic dance with Alice Parker Monroe. He waited calmly for her to arrive; one of her black silk stockings in his pocket. He ambushed her in the dark of her home, carrying her to the sanctuary of her bedroom. While she flailed, attempting to fight him off; he gagged her and restrained her wrists. He observed her widening eyes as he revealed his face before slipping the black silk stocking around her neck.

As he washed her dark luxurious hair and her pale, beautiful skin; he thought about how he would pose her. He knew exactly what pictures he wanted to take of her posed, fragrant beautiful body.

 **March 18 ~~~** _ **'Light thinks it travels faster than anything; but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels; it finds darkness has always got there first and is waiting for it.'**_ **\- Terry Pratchett**

Paul saw his next potential project at a coffee shop near the Botanical Gardens. It was the long dark hair against her red coat which caught his attention first. When she ordered two lattes, he wondered if she was meeting someone. He kept an eye on her while he waited for his own coffee. He felt calmness and clarity when he saw she was meeting another pretty brunette who had a baby girl with her. The second brunette thanked her for the coffee and offered her a sandwich. They talked about the course she just finished in London. She was glad to be home with her sister and baby Lucy.

Paul sat at a bench close enough to overhear parts of their conversation. He opened his backpack for a new composition book. She was pretty legs, pretty clothes, pretty mouth and shining eyes. She was self-assured, confident and obviously loved life. He sketched her face, and began noting details he observed. After she ate lunch with her sister…they parted and Paul followed the pretty brunette to her home. He noted the address, before he went home.

 **the end of March** __ **'** _ **It's better to not think about the night and how badly I want her, so I let it sort of stew there in my mind instead**_ **.' – Amanda Lance,** _ **A Dark Road**_

Once he started following her…he detailed her movements in his composition book…he detailed her habits…photographs and drawings…elaborate plans which included when he could break and enter. _SK_ normally worked Saturday morning for her firm, and met her sister and niece at the Botanical Gardens at lunch time on Saturday. They discussed _SK's_ work schedule, and when she could come to dinner at her sister's home.

 **April 3, 2012 ~~~** _ **'**_ _ **Battle not with monsters lest you become a monster. If you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you.' -**_ **Friedrich Nietzsche**

Paul took care of breakfast and getting the children ready for school. Once he dropped them off, he returned to the house. Sally attended a breakfast buffet hen party after work. He hoped she had lots of mimosas which would make her friendly. When he got home, she had a load of clothes in the washer, and had picked up the lounge, leaving a basket of toys at the bottom of the stairs.

"Take a shower with me," Paul said, nibbling on her ear.

"That would be nice," Sally melted in his arms. "I was afraid I would fall asleep if I went to bed and waited for you."

"No discussing the house, the children, Livvy's birthday party on the ninth, our jobs, etc. This is Sally and Paul time," he said, kissing her senseless. "Have I told you how much I like when you get buzzed and can't keep your hands off me?"

After their shower and energetic sex, Paul had to get ready for work. "I need you to do something for me," Sally handed him a small gift bag. "Favors from the hen party. Remember the last one?"

Paul grimaced. "Condoms in various colors, flavors and textures, small sex toys, etc. We couldn't even keep the pencils out of it because they were imprinted with naughty sayings which we didn't want Olivia to read."

"This one might be worse." Sally warned him. "There were an awful lot of giggles while the hostess passed them out."

Paul kissed her goodnight and took the bag to his study. Inside were the traditional colored, scented, textured condoms, sex oils, oral sex desensitizing spray, a pair of plastic toy handcuffs …and _Jezebel Red_ nail varnish. He slipped down the hall, accessed his prowling backpack from Livvy's room and slipped the nail varnish inside. He dropped the gift bag in the bottom of the trash and headed for work. After two appointments; he planned to check on his newest project, _SK_ , and establish her schedule.

 **April 14 ~~~ '** _ **Evil lurks in places you would never imagine and tries to harm its way into your life**_ **."**

His black clothes hid him in the shadows of the night. He enjoyed walking through her clean home. He listened to the creak of the stairs, but the rest of the house was silent. _SK_ was out. She usually went out on Friday nights with friends and colleagues for a drink or two. Her cat was out, prowling also. Its black coat hiding its predatory ways in the dark also.

Paul took a picture of himself in her bathroom. He enjoyed searching her bedroom. He enjoyed stroking her soft pretty panties against his face. He enjoyed testing the tensile strength of her stockings. He looked at the pictures on her dresser. He inspected her bedside stands…and found a pink vibrator. ' _Naughty girl_ ,' he chuckled to himself. The headboard of her bed was perfect for restraining her. He laid out a matching set of bra and panties with her vibrator hidden underneath.

She had no diary or journal to be viewed. He walked through the remaining rooms, and planned where he could hide and not be discovered. He couldn't get into her computer. There was no interesting mail. She had a few non-law books. Most of them were labeled from newsstands or shops at the Belfast or London airport.

He viewed her kitchen…and sat down to peel and eat an orange out of her fruit basket. He doused the kitchen light when he heard a car. He hid in the dark and watched _SK_ enter her home. In the hall, he watched her in her bathroom. When she turned on the bedroom light and started yelling that she was calling the police…Paul slipped out of the back door and into the shadows of the night.

 **April 15 ~~~ '** _ **A rose by any other name…'**_

Paul groaned to himself. Steve and Joan were arguing about lap dancers. Joan found a receipt for a strip club where Steve took a client. Sally was nattering on about exclusivity – physical and emotional – as being essential to a marriage. While her naivety was essential in his _happily married father of two_ persona; it was a bit painful also. They hadn't been out in months…he needed to be more attentive. While he had used sex in the past to distract her…their jobs, life and the children acted as cockblockers to that plan. How long had it been since he bathed her, got her drunk and fucked her while she was unconscious? Nights like tonight reminded him Sally helped him be 'ordinary' to camouflage his darkness. He responded appropriately when she stroked his arm and kissed him this morning.

Paul saw a set of lovely legs in high heels coming down the stairs first. The long-haired brunette stood near their table, looking for her friend when the smell of her rose and vanilla perfume invaded his senses. His eyes registered the white silk blouse and black pencil skirt. His eyes registered her clear, pale skin and her rosy lips.

"It's all your fault," he told Steve. "You should have gotten rid of the evidence." He stood, "Another round?" He would get close to her, attempt to get her driver's license. Research her. She might be just a secretary or a teacher…but he had to know her name…he had to know what she did…he had to know where she lived. Who wore a work shirt and skirt on a Saturday night? A professional, who just left work and was stopping for a drink on her way home.

When he asked her if she dropped her purse, she smiled at him and her scent invaded his senses again. He smiled back…but it was a smile borne by the fact he had her driver's license hidden in his sleeve.

 **April 16, 2012 ~~~** _ **'A rose is a rose is a rose.'**_

When he first restrained her hands, and removed his cap and balaclava, she didn't fight him. Her chocolate brown eyes looked at him like she was trying to figure out what he was doing…but his cold grey eyes froze her thoughts. When she realized he wasn't going to say anything…when she realized he was not going to rape her…when she realized he intended to kill her…Sarah Kay fought back with all her energy. ' _Sweet Jesus…he is strong...'_

He carefully washed every inch of her soft creamy skin. He was in no hurry. He carefully painted her nails with the _Jezebel Red_ nail varnish. He watched the stroke of the brush coloring her well-shaped nails. He knew how he would pose her while she was still pliable. He took pictures of her cleaned, fragrant, posed body. He sighed with satisfaction at the careful fulfillment of his extensive plans.

He could not gaze on her posed body any longer. He had his pictures. He had a lock of her hair. He had his souvenirs. He had her driver's license and a set of house keys to lock the back door when he left. Pleasure was his siren now…but it also followed an extensive plan…alone for hours, remembering the excitement of his complete possession of her. Viewing her pictures, remembering the feel of her soft skin, stroking himself with her pretty panties, touching and smelling the lock of her clean, soft, dark hair.

 **April 17, 2012 ~~~ '** _ **He that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts, walks under the mid-day sun; Himself his own dungeon**_ **.' - John Milton**

' _Covering a body usually indicates remorse about the murder. These posed and partially covered bodies show no remorse…just using the bodies like dolls, naked with erotic poses. He's older,'_ Stella thought. _'He wouldn't have this much control in his twenties, and I doubt he's older than forty. If he has this much control in his thirties…I wonder how many victims we've overlooked in the last decade. Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence."_ Stella mentally quoted Carl Sagan _._

 **April 2012 ~~~ '** _ **One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star**_ **.' - Friedrich Nietzsche**

He took the advice he gave Steve. Don't leave evidence laying around. He filled his car with composition books, pictures, souvenirs, and his mannequin which he had hidden in the abandoned building at the farm. He drove his car to a secure location where he could destroy evidence. He burnt everything, including the clothes from his prowling backpack…just to ensure there was no DNA transfer from his victims to him, and vice versa.

He cursed himself as he set fire to everything. _Why the fuck did he let Sally assume he was having an affair with Katie Benedetto? Liz Tyler would have been a better choice. It would have been easier to claim her as the reason he was gone those nights, since she was gone and under refuge protection from Jimmy. Sally did not know her and had no way to contact her._

 **May 3, 2012 ~~~** **'** _ **You're the measure of my dreams.'**_ **The Pogue,** _ **Rainy Night in Soho**_

First, Paul raided his closet for a new set of prowling clothes. Second, he took Livvy's four dollies (still naked from their bath in Scotland) and dressed them in clothes he found in her toybox. He ran his hands over the brunette dolly, taking great care to dress her in a satiny cream sheath dress with no underwear. He took great care to brush her tangled hair. He arranged the dollies in Livvy's suitcase and then sat down and wrote a pixie post letter.

 _ **'**_ ** _Too much history, too much remembering can ultimately destroy the present and the future.'_**

He couldn't decide what to do about Rose…he couldn't kill her…but he couldn't let her talk to Stella Gibson again. While the E-FIT was unfortunate; Stella's call sounded like they had discussed his and Rose's relationship…but she had not provided a deposition or sworn a police complaint against him. Taking Rose would destroy her family…just as he had destroyed his because of his fascination with brunettes. He wondered what their lives might have become if Rose had not left him. Instead of testing her limits and touring dark fantasies with him…she ran to the comfort of an ordinary man, ordinary sex and an ordinary life. Because she broke her promise (not to tell anyone) first; he did not feel guilty about breaking his promise to leave her alone. His disappointment with her actions was a bitter taste in his mouth and a twisted memory in his mind.

 **May 6, 2012 ~~~** _ **'Even a white rose has a black shadow.'**_

Paul tried to pay attention to the children's party; giving Olivia and Liam equal shares of his time. Olivia put herself forward several times when he was helping Liam with games and fun. He gave Sally a look and she ceased chatting with Joan to distract Olivia with face painting and other activities. During the cake and ice cream portion of the party…Paul noticed the purple and blue butterfly clip which held a group of helium balloons in place.

 _The blonde from the train…naked in bed…her right leg bent and tucked under her left knee at her ankle…her legs slightly spread, showing her plush pink vaginal mound…her left hand on her flat stomach, her navel showing between her forefinger and thumb…her right hand lightly cupping her left breast…the butterfly clip attached to her left nipple…looking like a butterfly flew through the window and landed. Eyes closed…as if she had fallen asleep after pleasuring herself._

"What, sorry," Paul realized Olivia was speaking to him. "Sorry little one…I was looking at the butterfly clip and thinking."

"Thinking what, Daddy?" Olivia asked.

"Thinking if we could find a clip like that with a magnet on the back, we could put it on the refrigerator. Maybe we could find two or three. They could be a rotating art exhibit of Liam and your drawings." Paul lied smoothly.

" _My_ drawings," she demanded. "Liam can barely color inside the lines."

"Olivia!" Sally snapped at her and gave Paul a significant look. ' _I'm not posting any of your bloody, disturbing pictures,'_ she thought _._

"Go play," Paul ordered Olivia. "I want to talk to Mummy." He observed Olivia's stubborn stance, her arms crossed, her feet spread. "Olivia…" he said, a warning tone to his voice.

When Olivia moved out of hearing range, Paul asked in a low tone of voice. "I saw the look on your face. What was the recent picture?"

"A blonde queen or princess, stabbed and bleeding from her sides with a blood pool by her feet." Sally said. "I know we're supposed to stop those drawings when we see her creating them…but she was done except for finishing the pool of blood. That's when I knew I needed to contact you."

 _ **~~~ next day**_

Paul accessed the hard drive from his laptop. He knew that erasing it destroyed nothing. He had files of women he stalked, evidence of his breaking and entering, pictures of homes. Additionally, uncut tapes of Rose were on it. He took it apart, and vented his frustrations on the hard drive smashing it with a hammer. _Fucking Stella Gibson. Fucking PSNI._ He wasn't stupid. He found pieces of drywall ceiling on his stairs. He knew what it was from working for the housing authority. The pieces didn't float down the stairs on a wall of water. They were attached to someone, probably the bastard tossing his house, and fell off when the intruder fled from his home. He raised the hammer and brought it down… _damn Rose for telling Stella about him._ He raised the hammer and brought it down… _damn Stella for connecting Fiona, Alice and Sarah._ He raised the hammer and brought it down… _damn Olivia for taking paper from his office to draw her picture. She must have left an impression on the paper he used for Ian Kay's letter. It's the only way Stella would know he had a daughter._ He raised the hammer and brought it down… _damn himself for going after Anne Brawley before he stalked her and learned her schedule_. He raised the hammer and brought it down… _damn his timing. This was the end of his evidence at the house. The books remaining here were burnt. Stop at the Botanical Gardens long enough to drop his computer in the water lily pond._ He raised the hammer and brought it down... _THINK_!

 _Botanical Gardens to the east bound bus line. Take it to the last stop on the line. Walk two more blocks to the lock up. Empty the lock up. Drive to where the homeless hang out. Access a burn barrel, burn his souvenirs, composition books and pictures. Leave the suitcase where some homeless person would claim it. Find a homeless person who resembled him…acquire his identification. He could not use his Peter Baldwin passport. It needed to be destroyed. There was no sense taking his Paul Spector birth certificate with him. He would take his mom's picture and lock of hair and the family photo they shot at Christmas._

 _Meet up with Katie – get funds from her. He didn't want to kill Katie…but he had to incapacitate her so she would not follow, or discern his plans. He would not take her with him. She had expectations…which he did not intend to honor. Could he render her unconscious, and then bind and gag her to the sink in the bathroom of his hotel room? Fill the SUV with petrol and drive south to Dublin. Once he was in Dublin, leave the SUV with keys in a seedy part of town. Ferry and train to London. He would get an unregistered mobile, and a hotel room. He needed to change his looks…he needed to make plans…he needed to disappear._


	11. Chapter 11

I do not own characters or plots from _The Fall_. I felt like taking them for a dark run.

There will be triggers _(sexual content, moral ambiguity, violent content, unsettling dark quotes)_. It is necessary to advance the story. I do not make light of Paul Spector's actions.

 **XXX**

 **Chapter Eleven**

 **May 2012 ~~~** _ **'Do you think that it will end?'**_

"Anderson," Stella hit pause on the video she had been watching when he entered her office. "You know I always thought Katie's diary was lurid fantasies. Now that I've seen this…it verifies what I suspected." She turned the computer screen so Anderson could view it also. It was a video Katie recorded and made available on her mobile.

Katie was in bed, covered with a purple quilt. Her bare shoulders suggested she was naked under the quilt. She was propped up on her right arm, facing the screen. Paul was in bed, covered by a hotel sheet and comforter. His bare chest suggested he was naked under the bed linens. His right hand was tucked behind his head; his left hand on the comforter.

"Did you have a good night?" Paul asked Katie.

"Yes, and you?" Katie asked.

"It was fun," Paul said. "How did it feel…breaking in?"

"Thrilling…what is my reward?" Katie asked.

"What do you want?" Paul asked in seductive tone of voice.

"What are you wearing?" Katie asked shyly.

"Nothing," Paul smirked.

"Prove it," Katie settled back on her pillows and watched as Paul slid the bed linens from his body. His laptop captured his muscular torso and face. His hand slid down the athletic Loin of Apollo which defined the space between his muscular torso and his genitals. His right hand stroked his cock from base to tip, he enjoyed the feel of his hand on his cock. He closed his eyes and masturbated to the memory of breaking into Stella's room, examining her lingerie, brushing the cuffs of her silk blouses, reading and photographing the risqué entries in her dream journal. Sounds of him pleasuring himself filled Stella's office.

"Oh my god," Anderson said. "How much more of this is there?"

"Too much," Stella said. "However, we can't fast forward through it. He just makes sounds of pleasure while he masturbates. However, I think he's saying something when he pauses."

"It's called edging." Anderson said through clenched teeth. "His left hand is holding his testicles away from his body so he doesn't ejaculate too fast. He's prolonging the experience through edging." Anderson groaned. "Do I really have to watch this?"

"Not only yes…but there will be a quiz afterward," Stella said in her sternest voice. "I need to know if you can understand what he is saying."

"Slow, keep control," Anderson said. "That's what he's saying. He's saying it through clenched teeth which is why your lip readers don't understand what he's saying. Did you think he was murmuring some woman's name?"

Eventually Paul moved his left hand and in less than three minutes, Stella and Anderson watched as Paul shot three long ropes of semen onto his torso.

"I found a surprise in my bed," Paul reached under the pillow and removed a pair of black lace panties. He twirled them on his finger. "Very bold of you, my sweet little virgin. Did you enjoy walking home, wearing no panties? Did it make you wet, knowing you left them for me to find?"

"Yes," Katie said.

"Did it frustrate you?" Paul asked.

"Yes," Katie said.

"Good," he chuckled. He used Katie's panties to clean himself. "How was that my sweet little virgin?" Paul asked.

"Perfect," Katie sighed.

Paul covered himself with his bed linens. "Goodnight Katie." He shut off his laptop and the video ended.

"Can we charge him with performing a sex act for a minor?" Anderson asked.

"She's at the age of consent. She's been gagging for a shag; but he never touched her." Stella said.

"Because?" Anderson asked.

"She's not his type. Wrong age, a student and doesn't live alone. He didn't break into her home to steal her panties. She willingly left them under his pillow. I don't know where the panties went, but they were gone when his room was searched. As to why, I think a psychiatrist needs to explain it. Why the hell is she providing false alibis?" Stella said.

"Her mother is almost the age of his victims, but she is a mother. Spector never proxy touched Katie to fulfill Lisa fantasies. That little friend of hers, Daisy, dyed her hair brown and tried to put herself forward as a potential interest of his on the web; but Paul never touched her either. She may think he touched Katie. She may have thought she could take Paul away from Katie; but it never happened. Again...not his type." Anderson said.

"Three things need to happen now. I need you to question Katie. You're Spector's age range, and a good-looking man. I think if you pay attention to the girl…ask open questions…let her talk herself out…we may learn more than we hope." Stella suggested. "When she was strip searched, the matron noted she was a virgin. We know the entries in her journal are false; but I don't want her to know we know. She thinks she's smart enough to outwit us. Let's wait to prove she's just a stupid child."

"The second thing we're going to learn?" Anderson asked.

"We need a warrant to search the Benedetto house. If she was willing to destroy his evidence at the hotel; is she hiding things for him at her house?" Stella said.

"The third thing we might learn?" Anderson asked.

"We need a DNA sample from her for process of elimination." Stella frowned.

"Do you think Sally was his…beard? Safe place? Physically, she is so unlike his victims." Anderson asked. "If he relied on her as part of his public persona…loving husband, dedicated father, caring counselor…then what was he doing with Katie?"

"Brainwashing her…to see if he could do it…to see if she would do what he said. I'll bet she isn't popular with the boys at school. Perhaps Sally sensed there was a wounded needy child in Paul, and her nursing background made her reach out to him…and love him." Stella tapped her pen on the pad of paper where she had been taking notes.

"Are you sure of that dynamic? _My sweet little virgin…_ I think he was mocking her." Anderson replied.

"I think he uses what he knows. Rose didn't come forward for almost a decade. I doubt Rose would ever have come forward; but she told Tanya Reed Smith, who told me. He convinced Sally to lie for him. He convinced Katie to destroy evidence. Ian Kay was sure the letter expressed remorse for killing Sarah. Annie Brawley said he was the best person she talked to. I think he used his client, Elizabeth Tyler, to cover his stalking Annie Brawley."

"You don't think he visited Tyler to counsel her?" Anderson asked.

"Home visits were discouraged by his employers. She revealed her pain to him. Although she was a brunette, she was a child minder and a mother. She was not his victim type." Stella said. "He didn't go to her home to steal her panties or stalk her."

"Jimmy Tyler thinks Spector touched her." Anderson argued.

"I think Spector gets off on other people's pain...mental and physical. He visited Annie as her bereavement counselor. He visited Elizabeth as her bereavement counselor." Stella said. "He worked a suicide helpline, listening to people in emotional pain. Sally worked a neonatal unit where she dealt with sick or dying babies and grieving parents." Stella took notes during their brainstorming session.

"Somehow," Anderson said, "I think if and when we find Rose Stagg; she won't have been strangled. While she is brunette and a professional; she is also a mother."

"Questions, questions, questions…and he's not talking. So let's see what we can learn from Katie and search warrants." Stella said.

"You may have to question him." Anderson asserted. "Granted, you are not a brunette; but I think you intrigue him. What do you know…what do you surmise…how much of our investigation was luck versus real police work? You know there is an unexplained decade between Rose and Fiona."

"I think we lucked out with Rose's revelation, the name Peter and the E-FIT. I think we lucked out with the child's picture impression on the Kay letter. I think our next big advances will be through serious detective work and not serendipity." Stella sighed.

"Well, let's hope I can unlock Katie's best kept secrets." Anderson smiled.

 **XXX**

Rick Turner scrolled through Katie Benedetto's Facebook page. He compared the dates of the break-ins and murders to the posts on her site. It was obvious she was not with Paul Spector like her diary claimed. She was a typical ignorant teenager, posting her life and her vulnerability in social media. She provided enough information on her page to make her vulnerable to a sex offender who preyed on teenage girls. Pictures of her with friends outside her home…with the house number showing. Selfies of her and friends on the street corner by her house. Pictures of her in her school uniform. Those three pieces of information would let any stalker know where to find her. ' _Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,'_ Rick thought. _'_ _Normal is an illusion. Normal for the spider is chaos and death for the fly.'_

While Paul Spector had a thing for thirty-ish brunette professional women, he intrigued Katie. Rick captured her songs on video and wrote down the lyrics. He doubted they would give any hints as to what she was doing with Spector. He thought they were fantasies; like her diary. The history on her computer provided dozens of documents to print and analyze. It was probably homework assignments. Part of him wished they had retrieved Paul Spector's laptop. That would have been an interesting exercise.

 **May 7, 2012 ~~~ '** _ **the air was afraid of**_ _ **him'**_ **\- Dante,** _ **Inferno**_

McNally shivered. Thank god that scene was over. While notifying Paul Spector he was under arrest for the Brawley murder and attempted murder, she questioned her sanity. She knew Spector was a murderer…so why the hell did she find him attractive? Watching him sit up…looking at that strong muscular chest in a white T-shirt which skimmed his torso…notifying him while he stared at her. The shape of his mouth, the strong jawline, and a well-trimmed beard suggested maturity and virility. Paul Spector would have many female fans…ignorant women…writing him… supporting him financially…fantasizing about that body in their bed. ' _You're not any better_ ; _you think a dominant man is erotic,_ ' she scolded herself. ' _Dominant, yes…psychotic, no.'_

She thanked god she concentrated on the slow, feminine walk out of his cell. Her brain was too short-circuited to accomplish much of anything else.

When the jailer locked Spector's cell, he watched McNally's careful walk in those high heels and let out a low wolf whistle. McNally blushed and kept walking away. She would never admit it, but she imagined it came from Paul Spector and it made her wet. She always imagined a strong, physically fit, and good-looking man in her future. She would just prefer one who wasn't psycho.

McNally paused when she heard footsteps behind her. She slowly turned to see who was following her. It was the assistant night jailer. "Montgomery, did you want something?" She asked in that slow, throaty deliberate voice she used on Paul Spector.

"I have a coffee break in an hour. I'd really like to spend it with you." Montgomery said.

"You've never expressed an interest in me before," McNally observed. "I've seen you over a hundred times in the last year...coming to work, leaving work, working out at the gym. So, what made you pay attention to me tonight? The loose hair…the sweater…the skirt…the heels?"

He approached and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "You name the date, the time, the place; I'll bring the handcuffs."

"For what?" She whispered back, swallowing hard. The heat and the smell emanating off that man was a second assault on her libido tonight.

"Dessert," he smirked.

She observed him carefully. He was good looking and muscular; but he was also a player. He would be adequate as a Paul Spector proxy. "After this situation with the Belfast Strangler ends; I'm taking a week's vacation. I'm working in my yard, planting, weeding, painting, etc. I could use help setting up the patio furniture and the grill. You bring the libations."

"Beer? Wine? Hard liquor?" Montgomery asked.

"Very cold, almost icy, very good white wine." McNally turned and continued her very carefully scripted slow sexy walk back to the incident room. It was a bit thrilling to know she turned multiple heads during her walk. The slow careful walk was the result of wearing skyscraper heels. She was not about to fall on her ass in front of her male colleagues. How the hell did Stella Gibson walk around in them daily?

However, it made her skin crawl when Stella showed her the tape of Spector after she left his cell. He walked into close range of the camera and began licking his lips…wiggling his tongue… thrusting his tongue in and out of his mouth…simulating the actions his tongue would make if he were going down on her. What had been a warm, tantalizing feeling in her underwear was now cold…and uncomfortable.

 **XXX**

CC answered the phone when it rang. They had just put the children to bed. John wondered if it was Sally. She wasn't working tonight, so he did not understand where she was. He knew she had gone to the house to see the damages from the flooding water tank. She intended to get more clothes and toys for the children and clothes for herself. He offered to go with her, to see the damage also; but she wanted to get in and get out without notice from the neighbors.

"Granny, is that Daddy on the phone?" Olivia called out from her room. John could hear CC talking, but he could not make out the conversation. Olivia called out again, "Granny, is that Daddy on the phone?" John angrily walked to her room.

"I know your mother raised you better!" John snapped. "You don't interrupt adults when they are talking or on the phone. I've had enough nonsense from you. I'm tired of this attitude you've been giving your mother. I'm tired of those bloody pictures you draw which upset your mother. It all ends tonight. You'll be staying with us for a while and I expect you to behave. It is past your bedtime. You turn over, close your eyes and your mouth, and go to sleep! Your mother will kiss you goodnight when she comes home." John closed the door to Olivia's room with a bit of a bang. He went down the stairs and observed his wife's pale face. "No talking," he said quietly to her. "Not until the children are asleep and we can step out onto the porch and not be overheard."

 **XXX**

"Steve says she's been arrested for perverting the course of justice. She's not coming home tonight." CC said.

"What does that mean?" John asked his very upset wife.

"She provided a false alibi for Paul when the police questioned her about his whereabouts when that girl died."

"What girl?" John frowned.

"Sarah Kay...the pregnant victim of the Belfast Strangler...the one from the Botanical Gardens, where he likes to take Olivia." CC wiped away a fresh batch of tears.

"Holy fuck!" John swore. "Do you think he did something in front of Olivia? Is that why she's having night terrors and draws those bloody pictures?"

"Steve told me something else…Sally's pregnant." CC sighed.

"Oh my god," John moaned.

"Steve says Paul's been arrested for the kidnapping of Rose Stagg, the woman who the police have listed as missing. He said the police are questioning Paul." CC said.

"Oh, holy fuck," John swore again. "We can't have any papers laying around. No telly, no radio, no news. If friends call us to ask what is happening...I say we give them Steve's work number. I don't want the children to learn about this until Sally has a chance to talk to them."

"Steve says she's very confused; she can't understand what is going on," CC said. "Sally thought Paul was volunteering for the Suicide Helpline. Seems he hasn't worked there since the New Year. She has no idea what he's been doing on those nights. Steve said Paul asked Sally to lie because he was having an affair with their teenage babysitter. He said he would be arrested, she would lose her job and she might lose custody of the children."

"That sick, stupid bastard," John swore.

"He's definitely not stupid," CC said.

"I'm not convinced. It's pretty damn stupid to endanger your life, wife, children, etc." John said.

 **~~~ the next morning**

"Why the break-ins before the murders?" Stella asked.

"I like the game." Paul replied.

"The game?" Stella asked.

"Stalking, breaking and entering, sifting through their lives. I like baring bits of their lives for them to see when they return home. They may have been educated, but they were not smart. I proved they were vulnerable in their lives…and not one of them responded appropriately. Not one of them relocated to a safer place. Sarah had her front door lock changed; thinking that was enough to keep her safe. However, I was not breaking in through the front door. Nor was I breaking in through the back door. Her home was accessible by a laundry room window."

"Well, as we both know, if they had relocated to a hotel, you could still get in," Stella said.

"Step one – find them. Step two – determine if they have police protection. Step three - avoid the hotel CCTV. Step four – find a way to access their room. Step five – establish a way to spend adequate time with them. Step six – kill them? How was I to clean their clothes. Remake the bed. So many things would have worked against me; thwarted my plans; if they had just ensured their safety. What killed these women; other than my strength?" Paul smirked. "What killed them was their stupidity. They shared too much of their lives on social media. They never changed their schedules. They never relocated after the first break-in."

"How did you know where I was staying?" Stella asked.

"Are you asking if I stalked you?" Paul smiled. "No. Once the paper announced your location when you had a one-night-stand with James Olson, it was easy after that. I knew the kind of hotel you preferred. I watched the hotels for police cars. Once I knew where you were staying, I entered the hotel, via a propped open back door. I found a pass card at a Room Service station. I found your name and room number on their records." He smiled again. "The rest was easy, as you know. Do you want the details of how erotic I found your lingerie and your silk blouses?" He smirked. "Tell me…did you wear the sheer black underwear or the lacy beige underwear when you seduced James Olson?"

Stella repressed a shudder.

Jim Burns yanked off his headphones, swore and threw his coffee cup against the wall.

 **May 8, before midnight ~~~** ** _'_** _ **The world is full of monsters with friendly faces and angels full of scars.'**_

 _"Holy Mary, Mother of God,"_ Kiera Sheridan thought to herself. She was assigned to be the one-to-one nurse for Paul Spector, alleged Belfast Strangler. The minute his bed was positioned and the wheels locked, she attached the vent. She noted the time and his stats in his chart, before removing the tape over his eyes. Noticing tear tracks from his eyes, she read his chart. Sometime during theatre, an unconscious Paul Spector cried. It hurt her heart; wondering if his body felt the pain of his assault or if his unconscious mind vented his emotional pain and sorrow.

She closed the blinds in his room to prevent gawkers. She liked her co-workers; but she steeled herself for intrusive questions. She gathered supplies to give him a bed bath. When she returned with a stack of towels, a blonde was standing in his room, staring at him. Cold fury marred what might be striking features.

"You're not allowed in here." Kiera informed her. The blonde didn't move. "Please leave," Kiera said sternly. She would ring for security if the blonde didn't leave. The blonde turned, her heels clicking-clacking out of the room. Kiera would speak to Patrick. She didn't know what Paul Spector had done to be shot while in police custody; but the police were not hovering in his room, intimidating him while he tried to recover. They were not standing in the hallway, or outside the door to his room, where he could see them.

Her patients talked to her, and she wasn't having their conversations overheard by police. She was prepared to be subpoenaed to be a witness and reveal what she and her patient discussed. However, she never told anyone she discussed God, life and death with her patients. She wasn't a priest, but she believed in the sanctity of confession. Those conversations were never included in their patient charts.

She tenderly washed his eyes, removing the tear tracks from his face. Since she wasn't washing his hair, undressing him and bathing him while he was conscious and embarrassed…half the difficulties of her task were washed away, she thought wryly. In a few days when he was awake, she would be familiar with his body and would not falter and blush.

She washed his face, ears, his beard and neck. The E-FIT in the paper did not do justice to his face. She never had such a physically fit patient. She could see and feel the definition of the muscles in his body. _Lord, steady my hands and keep me from impure thoughts_ , Kiera thought. Recovery had washed the blood from his body; but he needed a full body bath. She couldn't wash his torso covered by bandages, and she could not lift him to wash his back completely; but she washed every inch of his body in quadrants which she could reach. _Lord, steady my hands and keep me from impure thoughts, PLEASE!_ Kiera implored.

Kiera reached the point of the bed bath process which was usually embarrassing for the patient. Some of them insisted on washing their genitals, and Kiera gladly let them maintain their dignity and privacy. But Paul was unconscious. She tried to steady her mind by listing synonyms for the color of his hair…usually that worked. She completed crossword puzzles in her spare time. Auburn, cognac, russet, rust, titan, chestnut, copper, tawny. This time her mind was overwhelmed…short circuited…fried… affected…blown away…swamped…submerged… engulfed…deluged… flooded… overcome by his muscular, athletic body, his well-defined groin, well-trimmed pubes and his well-endowed penis. ' _How did someone so finely formed by God, have the Devil in his soul?'_ She shook her head. _'What an ignorant question! Lucifer was an angel once.'_

It was her job to provide for him medically. His criminal status was not her concern. ' _Alleged Belfast Strangler,'_ she scolded herself. She was determined to pray for Paul Spector, pray for his recovery, pray for the families of the women he might have killed. She was also determined to pray for the person who shot him.

 **~~~ the next day**

"Kiera," Patrick acknowledged her sudden appearance in his office.

"Patrick," she said evenly. "I don't think that was necessary."

"That what?" Patrick asked, surprised. Kiera was one of the best ICU nurses he had ever supervised.

"Paul's awakening like that…unaware of where he was, or what happened to him, and probably in pain and scared. We should have weaned him off the Propofol while managing his pain. I also think the 'wakeup with a bang' was inappropriately flip." Kiera frowned.

Patrick stood and closed the door. "Let me see your arm," he ordered. Kiera must have been scared by Spector grabbing her…but did not want anyone to know. Confronting him had to be her way of coping with the fear.

"I told you, he didn't hurt me. I'm okay." Kiera said.

"You are not okay. It was stupid of me to assign you to him. You're exactly his type…professional, thirties, long haired brunette. I was stupid about a lot of things regarding him." Patrick sighed.

"I'm not a professional…not like the architect or solicitor he allegedly killed." Kiera said.

"You are a trauma trained, intensive care nurse. If necessary, you could perform a tracheotomy, set bones, stitch wounds and act as a surgical nurse during an emergency trauma situation. Trust me, you are a professional…just don't let that handsome face distract you from your tasks." Patrick lectured her.

"I won't, but what have you been stupid about?" Kiera asked.

"For one, we should have put Rose Stagg in an isolation unit where she would not see him. She's checking herself out. She knows he's here and she's demanding to leave against medical advice. If we come under review for her leaving…that's exactly my comment to the review board. We should have been warned by the police to keep them at separate ends of the unit where neither would set eyes on the other." Patrick sighed. "I should have assigned a one-on-one nurse who wasn't Paul Spector's victim type."

"I'm fine," Kiera said. "Besides, it's _alleged_ Belfast Strangler." "Kiera. have you seen him? I mean, really seen him? I don't mean the face – I mean the physique? He did not release the grip on your arm until he was unconscious. I've never considered myself a wimpy man; but I would lose in a one-on-one confrontation with him. If he attempts to escape, he could take you hostage and snap your neck in a heartbeat."

"Thank you making me feel better," Kiera said factiously. "Despite what the police want us to think; I don't believe he was shot while trying to escape. I don't know what circumstances led to him being shot with a police officer issued gun, but I will bet you one hundred pounds in national lottery tickets that Paul Spector was NOT trying to escape."

"I'll take that bet," Patrick shook hands with Kiera to seal the bet. "Kiera…I want you to be present when I talk to him when he's awake. I am required to notify the police of his physical status. I need you to be observant and chart his changes and improvements."

"You know I will; but I have a request. The police must stay outside the ICU. I don't want six officers responding if I yell for help. I don't want him handcuffed to the bed unless he proves he cannot be trusted." Kiera insisted.

"You know he has to be handcuffed and officer escorted if we take him anywhere in the hospital. Even if it's for further tests," Patrick informed her. "Now…let me see that arm."

Kiera sighed and let him examine her arm.

"If you develop bruises, I want it noted in his chart." Patrick said. "Everyone wants to believe in the inherent goodness of people. He has the extra advantage of having the face of a fallen angel. Just be on your guard."

 **May, after Paul goes to court ~~~ '** _ **Life is the sum of all your choices.' –**_ **Albert Camus**

"I believe Rose set the standards for Spector. Brunette, professional. He may have sampled varieties before her…but she was the one…the first. A lot of people never forget their first love. He experimented with her…and there may have been more to the relationship if she hadn't gone back to her boyfriend." McNally commented.

"I think we have to consider age progression as we search for other victims. I think his victim pool aged as he and Rose aged. I'll bet the women he stalked after Rose were in their early twenties. The victims were in their thirties, like he is." Anderson said.

"We should probably carbon date those journals. If we know the year he created them; we may be able to find the identities of A.S. or R.W. I don't want to publish their pictures or information. The E-FIT, and calling him Peter, sent him to Rose. I don't want another woman to be intimidated by media, crazies, stalkers or copycats." Eastwood said.

"You've seen the Rose video from Spector's phone. She tried to reason with him, placate him, seduce him, flatter him…and finally she lost her temper with him. He never treated her like one of his victims; she's bound, but not strangled. She's dressed, not naked. I think he was angry with her for talking about him, for leading us to his door. I think putting her in the boot of her car was probably the most passive murder he could commit." Stella said.

"I'll start a data sort," Rick Turner said. "I'll do it by years, women in his age range plus or minus a year. I can take the pictures from the journals and see if we can get matches via a facial recognition program. We'll check the police records for murders of brunettes in his age ranges."

 **May 25, 2012 ~~~ '** _ **That which does not kill us, makes us stronger**_ **.' - Friedrich Nietzsche**

"I took a human life," Dani sobbed. "I ended any dreams, or any future he might have. I have caused his family immeasurable grief for the rest of their lives."

"Tyler did that himself," Stella said, stroking Dani's back, letting her puke out the alcohol poisons in her body and puke out the emotional poisons of her mind. "He lost his child. He lost his wife. He lost his bloody mind when he started stalking Paul Spector. You saved our lives, Dani. It was self-defense. You discharged your duties to serve and protect. Tyler would have killed anyone who prevented him from killing Spector. Don't let this destroy you."

However, Stella wasn't sure how much Dani heard of her pep talk. Dani passed out, lying on the cool tile floor in the bathroom. Hagstrom was sitting, propped up next to a toilet. McNally mirrored her pose. They both looked worse for wear. McCurdy, stretched out on a sofa in the powder room with an ice pack on her head, moaned. Grey was not a good color for anyone. Larkin and another forensic tech were retching into toilets. Adra Welch, the IT tech who worked with Rick Turner, handed cold wet paper towels to all the women. She didn't look excessively steady on her feet either. Stella shook her head. "What the hell did these women drink?"

"Tokyo Ice Tea," Tanya Reed Smith said. "A shot of Midori with seven or eight other shots of alcohol. I called an ambulance. I'm trying to prevent alcohol poisoning."

"Christ," Stella swore. "Where the hell did they get it from?"

"SHHHH," McCurdy cautioned her. "Fuck you're loud."

"Montgomery, assistant night jailer, told the ladies they needed to blow off steam. Instead, they're blowing chunks," Tanya's comment was punctuated by Hagstrom and McNally retching again. "Montgomery brought a premixed gallon jug of hooch up to the unit."

"I'm calling Joe O'Donnell." Stella asked the Belfast General switchboard operator for Dr. Joe O'Donnell. She was not surprised when he picked up the call. "This is Stella Gibson. Incoming," Stella warned him. "Ambulance, seven or eight women, all with alcohol poisoning...Tokyo Ice Tea."

"Sort of gives 'bombed' a new meaning," Dr. Joe commented.

 **Early June 2012 ~~~** _ **'Between the emotion and the response falls the Shadow…Life is very long.'**_ **T.S. Elliot,** _ **The Hollow Men**_

"No," Rose said sternly. The counselor from the Alice Monroe Foundation paused in her spiel. Tom's eyebrows quirked questioningly, but he listened. Rose addressed her guest. "I will not accept your offer to pay for counseling in exchange for my attending Paul Spector's memorial service and burial at sea. I don't need your brand of closure. You're the stupid bastards who sent Paul Spector to counsel one of his victims!"

"She's not going," Tom seethed. "Why would Rose agree to your offer?"

"Because she needs closure. Because she has anger and other unresolved issues which should be addressed." The counselor said quietly.

"I am angry and I have every right to be angry. I am NOT confused by my feelings in this regard. I have every right to thank God that Paul Spector is dead. I have every right to hate him for the pain he inflicted on my family. I have every right to wish this situation was over. I have every right to wish for privacy for my family and myself. I have every right to not be questioned daily about this. Every minute I discuss him with counselors or the police is a minute which is stolen from loving my family and being with my family. I already lost a week to Paul Spector. Enough is enough." Rose snapped.

"You knew him before he became a killer," the counselor argued. "Don't you want to say goodbye to that man?"

"I told you, _and_ Tom _and_ the police…I said goodbye when I walked away in 2002. Perhaps I caught a glimpse of what he might become...but otherwise, I have no insights to the serial killer, Paul Spector." Exasperated, Rose sighed.

"We've discussed this," Tom argued. "Every time you separate the feelings you have for Paul Spector from the memories you have of Peter Baldwin, you damage yourself."

"No, I don't." Rose insisted. "Excuse me…I barely knew Peter. Peter's actions are the reason I walked away from him. They are the reason Tanya convinced me to talk to the police. Any good qualities he had were negated when Paul Spector started killing those women."

She waited for them to say something. When they didn't, she continued. "I feel a bit murderous when I have to repeat myself or defend my actions. I'm tired of discussing this. I want my life back. If the Alice Monroe Foundation is truly interested in helping me...help us relocate to a new home which doesn't have memories of that man. Hire a professional to safety-proof that home. Pay for me to attend self-defense classes. Convince my work that I can return and help people despite their cancer diagnosis. Perhaps if you prove you _can_ help…I will help you. Otherwise, I will never be a guest speaker for the Alice Monroe Foundation. I will never grant personal and revealing interviews to the press; not today, not tomorrow, not ever!"

The counselor and Tom stared at Rose's vehement response.

"I'm not dressing up in black, getting on a boat and watching Paul Spector's ashes being scattered to the winds and the seas to prove I'm getting closure from this situation. I'm staying home that day. I'm preparing a posh tea. I'm laying the table with the best linens and china. I'm spending money on floral centerpieces not funeral wreaths. I'm putting on a Victorian picture hat, a floaty dress and heeled sandals. I'm inviting Tanya and her daughters, and my family and friends to attend a garden party and tea with Nancy and me. I'm going to celebrate life."

"Do you think avoidance is healthy?" The counselor asked.

"Avoidance? Do I think it is healthy to enjoy life and a bit of laughter with the people who are important to me? Do I think it is healthy to make loving memories to drown the sad, scary ones?" Rose asked. "When Paul Spector heard I was alive, his only comment was 'unexpected.' He underestimated me. Like the Alice Monroe Foundation underestimates me. If you understood me at all…you would know I would do anything for my family. Anything, including sacrificing my life." She flashed her arm with the 'I love you' scar at the counselor and her husband before she stormed out of the room.

"Just so you understand," Tom Stagg said quietly to the counselor as he showed her to the door. "I intend to swim in the ocean as much as possible on every beautiful day that I can get there. Because to me…that's the equivalent of dancing on that bastard's grave."

 **The Second Week of June 2012 ~~~** _ **'No tree can grow and reach for heaven if its roots don't reach for hell.' -**_ **C.J. Jung**

On a sunny day, the second week of June, Matt Eastwood accompanied Stella Gibson and a still bandaged August Larson on a boat which would deliver Paul Spector's ashes to an undisclosed location at sea. Sean Healy, with authorization from the Goodall family, arranged for the cremation and burial at sea with the police. Sally Ann could not attend; she was currently under psychiatric care. Liam would not attend. He was recovering at the hospital from his mother's attempt to kill him. Steve and Joan, Sally's friends who had temporary custody of Olivia, refused to allow her to attend and they did not attend either. Olivia's doctor recommended she not see her father's dead body for fear it would trigger new night terrors. John and Carol Goodall refused to attend. Paul Spector was dead to them…but not forgotten as the media used him and information about him to haunt them.  
Katie Benedetto had to be sedated when she heard the news about Paul Spector's death. She was immediately put under suicide watch. Her counselor convinced her to see her mother, Lisa, on the day of Paul's funeral. They had lunch together and a family therapy session; which ended in their crying and holding one another for hours. Katie's therapist arranged for them to have family group therapy via Skype at least three times a week.

Rose and Nancy with Tanya and her daughters and with Rose's family and other friends enjoyed the sunny day. Rose fixed Champagne Lemonade and specialty tea. She served delicate finger sandwiches, tasty savories, fresh cream scones, gourmet raspberry and strawberry jams, fairy cakes and white chocolate petit fours. She served gourmet chocolate truffles on petite silver serving trays. The tables were beautifully set with crisp white linens and flower bowls of white, pale green and blue hydrangeas. Her afternoon was filled with sunshine and laughter…and lots of pictures of her with family and friends. The party favors were boxes with live butterflies which Rose and her guests released into the blue skies and fresh air. When someone asked what she planned to do next, Rose explained Tom's family was watching Nancy and Cody while they went away for a ten-day Mediterranean cruise.

The Brawley family, the Kay family, the Parker family, and the Gallagher family refused to attend the funeral. Morgan Monroe did not attend; he was still recuperating in the hospital. Aaron Monroe did not attend; he was in jail, waiting for his trial for the attempted murder of his father.  
Elizabeth Tyler did not attend but sent a funeral wreath of white calla lilies. She visited Danny and Jimmy's graves, releasing their ghosts from her heart. She went to the home she and Jimmy shared in Shankill…and gathered photo albums, and memorabilia. She had been accepted at Queens, and would seek her degree in counseling. However evil Paul Spector was, he had given her courage to stand up for herself. He had taught her to expect a better life than she was living.  
The police refused the request of the Alice Monroe Foundation and the media to attend the burial at sea. Patrick Spencer bought £100 of national lottery tickets to pay his betting loss. Kiera Sheridan lit a candle for the soul of Paul Spector. She memorized a Bible verse for this day: _I loved you at your darkest. Romans 5:8._


	12. Chapter 12

**The Very Dark Final Chapter:** ' _Murder is unique in that it abolishes the party it injures. So society has to take the place of the victim and on his behalf demand atonement or grant forgiveness. It is the one crime in which society has a direct interest.'_ W. H. Auden

 **XXX**

AN: I do not own the characters, plot, etc. from _The Fall_. I simply felt like taking them for a dark run…

Warning…there will be triggers _(sexual content, moral ambiguity, violent content, unsettling dark quotes…and murder)_.

 **XXX**

 **May 25, 2022~~~** _ **'twas death, and death, and death indeed'**_

Stella gasped when she saw the Belfast paper lying in the middle of her bed. The front page was a Ten-Year Anniversary Special of the rise and death of the Belfast Strangler. Stella didn't have time to reach for her gun or search her bedroom. Someone, someone strong, shoved her to the floor and incapacitated her with a Taser.

As Stella regained the use of her limbs, she realized she was laying on her back, on the floor and handcuffed around one of the legs of her four-poster bed.

"Did you enjoy your night out?" A feminine voice addressed Stella. "Did you enjoy your fast and furious fuck in the security office at the nightclub? I'm sure Mrs. Douglas believes her policeman husband was on duty as security for the nightclub last night…perhaps he was. It might be a duty for a thirty-something year old man to fuck you. A decade ago…you were a cougar. Now, you're just an old slapper."

Stella rattled the handcuffs, attempting to see if she could get free.

"Stay calm and talk to me; I will let you live. Scream and you will die. The victim of consensual sex games gone wrong…like Susan Harper." The cool, disembodied voice was unnerving.

Stella complied; however, she wiggled her body around so she was laying on her side, facing the table in her room. She tilted her head and examined the young woman. "Do I know you?"

"It's been a long time since we were face-to-face with one another," the voice said. Her tone was flat; yet the voice was lyrical. The voice was young, Irish…and belonged to Olivia Spector.

"I see you've deduced who I am," the voice said before turning her chair into the light. "Oliva…Olivia Ann Spector…although I don't go by that name. For the past two years, I have been Petra Baldwin for sex games and Mary Celeste Garrison for real life situations." She waited; watched Stella's face.

"Petra Baldwin…Peter Baldwin," Stella murmured. "Mary Garrison, his mother." Stella observed her. The face was mostly Paul Spector, but it had some Sally Spector features: oval, rosy completion.

"Oliva Ann Spector is a strawberry blonde, hazel-eyed, 18-year-old girl. Petra Baldwin is an auburn-haired, grey-eyed, 23-year-old survivor. While I'm wearing my Petra disguise, it's fine for you to call me Olivia." She announced.

"Why am I handcuffed?" Stella asked.

"You would have known today was coming if you bothered to follow the destruction caused by your wake." Olivia's cold voice sent shivers down Stella's spine. "However, you've been too busy building your career in the last decade to pay attention to anything else." She poured more wine in her glass from a bottle from Stella's wine rack.

"Don't project your anger about your father or your mother on me. I was just doing my job." Stella said coldly. "I did it well; your father was caught."

"Since my father was a serial killer, I know you believe that one fact made him impossible to analyze. I know he had two personalities: the one who defended Liz Tyler and who loved me and the other personality who killed his victims. I know you believe he was faking amnesia. I am positive he wasn't…but I won't waste my time arguing our differing opinions."

"We could speculate about your father and what made him tick for the rest of our lives, but neither of us truly knew him. We did not truly understand him. You have your theories and I have mine." Stella said. "Ted Bundy said murder was not about lust or violence, but about possession. Your father said the same."

"I know my father's dark persona began with his mother's suicide, his molestation at the hands of a priest, and the general negligence of the system assigned to protect the innocent. I'm not stupid, Stella. I know my father was sadistic, and psychotic and narcissistic and…considering how he tried to brainwash Katie…he was part Machiavellian. Psychiatrists call that the Dark Tetrad of personality traits. My mother's depression was caused by realizing her life was a lie. Her miscarriage caused an emotional imbalance which caused her to attempt suicide; along with killing Liam and me."

"That's very mother blaming," Stella said. "I know you adored your father; do you really hate your mother that much?"

"I'm not the only daughter who thought the world of her father. You still write about your father in your dream diary. _My_ father too." Olivia said, pointedly; turning to a marked page in Stella's dream journal.

 _"Last night I dreamed we were in Slieve Dove…Paul and me. Our romantic picnic turned deadly when Jimmy Tyler began shooting at us. Paul attempted to shield me from him…and collapsed in my arms._ _Paul's hand reached up to touch my curl which brushed against his cheek. He felt the soft, fragrant hair slip through his fingers before he lost consciousness."_

"Romantic picnic?" Olivia scoffed and turned to another marked passage. " _I dreamt it was the end of a horrible week at work…I came home to soft music, and a hot bubble bath with lavender and rose scent. Paul was naked and gave me a wonderful massaging shampoo and bath. I was almost senseless when he was done. I could only lay there and watch him dress in black running clothes with gloves, cap and balaclava. I could not stop him from leaving to kill another woman."_

"Bubble bath?" Olivia scoffed again. She turned to a third marked passage. _"Last night I dreamed Tom and I were in bed, we were cuddling after sex. I saw Tom's eyes widen…and I looked where Tom looked. Paul sat there in black satin boxers and robe which hung open, showing off his torso. His legs were crossed and propped on the bed. "Stella, shining star, why do you settle for ordinary sex with ordinary partners? Why can't I interest you in something more adventurous?" He rose and pulled the black satin belt from his robe. He twisted it in his hands…"_

"So, I'm curious, Stella, shining star…did the passage end because it was a nightmare…or did you have a wet dream about Daddy tying you up for some adventurous sex?" Olivia smirked.

"It was a nightmare," Stella said. "They were all nightmares."

Olivia sighed and set the journal aside. She took a very large drink of her wine. "Where were we before the entertainment?" She snapped her fingers. "My mother…who was institutionalized after she tried to kill us. Liam and I lived with Steve and Joan Jennings until there was a court hearing. We were sent to a foster home because the court felt my grandparents were too old to raise their grandchildren. When my grandparents died; Liam and I were separated. I was sent to a foster home with half a dozen other preteen girls. Liam was put in a group home."

She poured more wine in her glass, sipped, and continued to tell her story. "I contacted Liam's group home when I turned 18 in April. Liam begged me to take him away. He could not bear to be verbally, physically or sexually abused any longer. The courts refused to give me custody until Liam turned sixteen. However, I arranged for an afternoon visit yesterday. The home was thrilled to let me see my brother. Liam is laid out in the shower of my hotel room in Belfast."

"Did you strangle him? Like your father killed his victims?" Stella asked.

"I killed him with tea and kindness; something sorely lacking from our lives this past decade. I cleaned him up, covered him with a blanket and put a cross in his hands. He's nude. I sent his clothes down to the laundry, in a bag with the wrong room number on it. There will be an explosion at the home in," she checked her watch. "Ten minutes. All the counselors and boys will be killed. We don't want any of those monsters to create new monsters, do we?" She smiled. "In case you hope some of them might escape, it's Wednesday night… when all the counselors are present for staff meetings. While they are occupied; it's an occasional gangbang of younger boys by older boys. It cost me a great deal of money for the chained and locked doors and the explosives which will level the home."

Stella stared at her. Cold, Olivia's voice was so cold. "How many?" she whispered.

"One-hundred-nineteen boys and twenty staff." Olivia explained. "However, let's start at the beginning of this mess." Olivia reached for a file from her briefcase and laid it on the table. "Mary Garrison's death certificate – suicide by hanging, caused by depression. Peter Baldwin's juvenile files and court records." She laid another file on the table. "The names and death certificates for the two social workers who sent my father to Gortnacul House." She added another file. "This one you might find interesting. John Paul Marshall/Spector's death certificate. He died in prison in Canada before I got to him. The file also lists his deceased Marshall relatives and his living Spector foster brothers and sisters. You'll be pleased to know they are or were upstanding citizens." She laid another file on the table.

She eyed Stella and sipped her wine.

"Over the last two years, I paid for contract killings for the priest and ten counselors from Gortnacul House who molested my father. It's a shame the penal system doesn't pay their guards as well as criminals can." She added a much thicker file to the ones already on the table. "Background checks on all of them. Copies of obituaries or death certificates. Most of them slipped and died in the shower. A couple of them electrocuted themselves with fingernail clippers and electrical outlets. The file begins, of course, with newspaper clippings of the investigation and arrests. It includes newspaper articles about everyone involved."

"I can't believe there are that many prison guards who can be bought." Stella scoffed.

Olivia laughed. "It's not just prisoners who hate pedophiles. While they were being eliminated, I started terminating all the boys assigned to Gortnacul House. Thank you for the excellent records you amassed during my father's investigation. They were quite helpful in finding and identifying all the boys. I contract killed men who were at Gortnacul the year before my father, the three years my father was there and the year after my father. I personally murdered David Alvarez."

"Because he betrayed your father?" Stella asked.

"Because he wanted to die and did not have the courage to kill himself. He was killing himself slowly...torturing himself through alcoholism. After we had a conversation, I helped him get high for the last time in his life. He told me an interesting tale. My father, the chosen boy, was to name his successor. Father Jensen tried to convince my father that God had selected David Alvarez as the next chosen boy. Only Father Jensen did not understand, my father picked his successor out of revenge. Seems Father Jenson gave the chosen boys pet names based on their initials."

"Pretty boy…" Stella murmured.

"Chad Lowell, also known as Charming Lad, picked my father to be the chosen boy. My father, Peter Baldwin, Pretty Boy, picked Chad's brother Daniel as his replacement. I think Chad would have been Dad's first kill if he could have found him. Daniel was known as Darling Lad. But unlike my father, who endured a year of daily molestation, Daniel managed to lose grace with Father Jensen in less than six months." Olivia sighed. "I took a great deal of pleasure in taking Chad's life. I cut him twelve times at his carotid, ulnar and femoral arteries while he was bound and gagged. One for each month my father was molested."

Stella gasped.

"I wanted to carve 'Charming Lad' on his chest; however, I could not reveal myself too soon." Olivia laid a thin file on top of the ones on the table. "His death is unsolved, for a little while longer. Daniel overdosed after finding Chad's body. Overdosed as in assisted drug death. They, like my father, were damaged for life by Father Jensen's molestation."

Olivia glanced at the next pile of files before continuing. "I've spent the past two years putting the Gortnacul Guys out of their misery. None of them had happy lives… depression, self-harming, domestic violence, divorces, drugs, alcoholism, criminal events, and incarceration. If they had a child going down the same self-destructive path as their father; I arranged for their termination."

"How?" Stella's horrified voice asked.

"Several of them ' _killed'_ their father and then themselves," Olivia explained with air quotes. "Several of them were killed by people defending themselves. Several of them were killed by alcohol poisoning or drugs. A few of them died when the cigarette they were smoking caught their bed or couch on fire. A few of them were homeless and died by jumping off very tall buildings or bridges. A few of them drowned. A few of them died from falling asleep on railroad tracks."

"Oh my god," Stella gasped. "You are insane!"

"The three happiest of father's classmates were male whores who sold their body to men who used and abused them. Where were you and your grand abilities when it was obvious the suicide rate was exceptionally high these past two years?" Olivia asked contemptuously. "Of course, that's something you never would have researched for your guest speaker presentations." She laid three extremely thick files on the table.

"Obviously, the deaths occurred all over the world, because you managed to not arouse anyone's suspicions." Stella said.

"Obviously, my father read you right…you don't give a fuck if a man dies. You only care to catch the killers of women. Well, I've killed and I won't be caught." Olivia smiled. "Unlike my father…I changed my methods of killing when needed or to reflect the reason behind the killing."

"Oh, you'll be caught…" Stella predicted. "One of the people you hired will be caught in the commission of another crime. They will turn on you."

"Believe that if it gives you peace. I celebrated my eighteenth birthday by killing nine people," Olivia said. "It was my foster father and two of his bastard mates who first raped me on my fifteenth birthday. I enjoyed inflicting pain before they sobbed their apologies to me and pled for their lives. I also killed their wives. I told Vivienne what was going on and she refused to believe those monsters raped teenage girls. I also arranged the death of the three social workers who vetted Thomas and Vivienne Garamond as foster parents for preteen and young teenage girls." She laid another file on the table.

"How did you inflict their pain?" Stella asked.

"They used their male appendages to hurt me; so, I shot them in their nether regions and waited for them to bleed to death. I made their wives watch them bleed to death before I shot them." Olivia said. "Only I didn't just shoot the wives. We played a little game of Russian Roulette. I placed ring gags in their mouths…ring gags which would allow the penetration of a gun. I used a revolver with three bullets. I would spin the chamber, place the gun in their mouth and pull the trigger. If the gun didn't go off, I went to the next woman in line. We played round robin a few times."

"Why for god's sake?" Stella asked.

"Because they needed to know what it felt like…to know something awful was going to happen to them…to know there was nothing they could do to stop the violation of their body. The police are still trying to sort that scene. Over 100 girls went through that house in the last decade. That's a lot of potential offenders to interview."

"Did you kill…" Stella started to ask.

"I killed the two girls who delivered me to my rapists on my fifteenth birthday. Sarah Broadhurst and Mary Louise Langham walked me to school via a different route than we normally took. When we passed a seemingly deserted garage; Thomas grabbed me from behind. They walked on to school. They never looked back. They never helped me. Both were sixteen at the time and probably glad their time as sex toys was over. I was orally, vaginally and anally raped several times for three days by three men."

"How did you kill the girls?" Stella whispered.

"They were kidnapped on my birthday, driven to an empty lock-up. Restrained and gagged in locked cages placed ten feet apart so they couldn't help one another escape. Their bodies haven't been found yet." Olivia laid a file on the table. "The details of their crimes, capture, incarceration and death are in there. The address to find them is there also."

"What did you do to the social workers?" Stella asked.

"I took a page from my father's playbook. I broke into the social workers' homes and poisoned them. However, unlike my father, I didn't leave clues there had been a break in. I wanted them to suffer as much as possible. Anaphylactic shock for two of them, and straight up poison for number three. Penicillin in toothpaste, peanut oil in salad dressing, and poisoned brandy. I emptied and replaced every epipen which I found in their homes; but not before I coated the needles in peanut oil or penicillin."

"How did you…" Stella began to ask.

"Support myself and bring my plans to fruition? I left the system when I was sixteen. Thomas took me to school that day. He told me he would pick me up after school; he had something he wanted to 'discuss' with me. I knew he planned to name the next victim. I had no intention of helping him. I left school at lunchtime." Olivia sipped her wine and continued.

"I planned this day while I was in that foster home. It costs money for living, making and carrying out plans, obtaining alternate identification, learning handgun proficiency, learning how to handle explosives, learning how to break and enter, learning how to bypass security systems, learning expedient poisons, learning how to hotwire cars. I took Krav Maga and yoga classes to strengthen and tone my body. It costs money to procure information…especially the dates, times, places and names of your 36 lovers in the last decade."

"I imagine it did," Stella said wryly. "I'm sure you didn't obtain your money legally."

"I needed money to live and offered myself to a man who had money. He took one look at me, and offered to help me make a quantity of money. He was a BDSM trainer, in search of fresh, untrained flesh to accompany him to BDSM clubs in the UK and Europe. For £2,000 a couple during a weekend retreat, he would train 12 couples to be Dominants and submissives. We taught basic, advanced and extreme BDSM courses...everything from light bondage to device torture. When I wasn't making £8,000 a weekend as a training submissive; I made at least £1,000 a night as a sexual submissive. My Dom introduced me to men who could afford my skills and my youth. You would be amazed at how much men are willing to pay to restrain and fuck a teenage girl. I made ludicrous amounts of dosh letting men spank my ass before fucking it while I wore a Catholic school girl uniform. I made over half a million pounds in the last two years. My Dom taught me how to live a quiet life. The pain I experienced through the BDSM lifestyle kept me sane, and supported me."

"I wouldn't say it kept you sane if you've planned this grand gesture to commemorate your father's death," Stella snapped.

"You'd be amazed how easily pleasurable pain lances the effects of painful memories. Be careful, Stella. I don't have to talk to you. I have the means to keep you on the edge of death for hours while I talk to you…play with you…avenge those families you damaged." Olivia ransacked Stella's underwear drawers. "Very pretty," she laid a black, lace-topped stocking on the bed.

"Your father preferred a belt in the end," Stella said.

"He preferred stockings from what I can tell of Alice, Sarah and Anne's crime photos. However, I cannot let you sidetrack me. Speaking of filthy lucre; how does it feel to be paid twenty-five thousand pounds each year by the Alice Monroe Foundation? Every year AMF pays you to be a ' _guest'_ speaker at their annual fundraiser on Alice's birthday. Seems we both sold our souls. By the way, the Alice Monroe Foundation will be reduced to ashes before the night ends. I do hope they backed up all their materials offsite." Olivia laughed.

"Why did you torch the Alice Monroe Foundation? I can't have been the only reason?" Stella said.

"I killed another person today. Katrina Benedetto will be found, dead, in the bathroom of my hotel room in Belfast. She came to breakfast at the hotel; eager to explain the exclusive interview she gave the Belfast newspaper. The money they paid will help Lisa Benedetto bury her. By the way, I was tempted to strangle the bitch, but instead I put poison in her mimosa."

"Why Katie?" Stella asked. "She worked very hard to turn her life around. She teaches music to autistic children!"

"She didn't have to sell her body to get an education. The Alice Monroe Foundation ensured she received a college education. All she had to do was appear at their fundraisers. Don't you think it is revealing that she claimed she was an ignorant love-struck girl brainwashed by a charismatic and handsome man? Instead of saying _charismatic serial killer_ …she said _handsome man_. That was what attracted her…his body, his looks, his voice." Olivia said bitterly. "One of her favorite quotes from _Twilight_ is: _Because when I thought of him, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now_."

"I'm sure your mother was charmed by his looks, also." Stella shrugged. "His good looks and good manners kept his true nature concealed."

"Don't act so superior, Stella," Olivia scoffed. "You would have fucked my father if you had the opportunity. I can see that in your dream diary."

"I abhorred your misogynistic father," Stella said.

"Me thinks the lady doth protest too much." Olivia snapped. "Katie was a sixteen-year-old slut. Willing to destroy my parents' marriage in exchange for her first fuck. Willing to betray her mother's friendship with my mother for sex. Whatever my father's sins were…he was not a pedophile. He never touched that lying little bitch." Olivia spat. "She inflicted pain on my mother, her mother and on her 'best friend' Daisy Drake. By the way, Daisy was killed earlier this week while on a weekend jaunt to Scotland. It was a car accident. I also learned mechanical skills while I was in my learning mode. I don't appreciate the little whore accepting money from the media to tell a fantastic story about meeting my father. She made herself sound like a potential victim…when the truth is…Dad would never have touched her. It was a pain in the ass to follow her to Scotland and wait until dark to sabotage her car. I loosened the lug nuts on her left front tire and on her back right tire…which is appropriate because her life was really a car crash waiting to happen."

"So, are you here to chastise me for the true story I've been telling the media for the last decade?" Stella asked.

"No, it's not that simple." Olivia said. "I have evidence of 36 trysts you conducted in the last decade." She pulled a file from a briefcase. "You had too many one-night-stands with married men and women. You did not care if you damaged families and inflicted pain. How do you think James Olson's wife and son feel every time the media recalls your encounter the night before he died?"

"She was screwing around on him," Stella said. "It's not like she was an angel."

"You didn't want Tom Anderson once you returned to London. Yet, you tried to ensnare him again when you returned to Belfast for one of your guest appearances. I think he was more appealing to you because he buffed up...physical exercise to offset the detrimental effects of his shooting and broken arm. I'm glad he spurned your advances and remained faithful to his fiancée, a sketch artist for the PSNI. I find his selection of women after you to be quite interesting. Petite, long-haired brunettes who were his age. Women who would have interested my father. You tried to reconnect with Reed Smith; but her partner prevented it. Too bad you don't want Jim Burns again. It seems he's the only person in Belfast willing to fuck you." Olivia sniped.

"At least people don't pay to fuck me," Stella snapped.

"Oh, great profiler…and cold bitch…the people you slept with paid for their indiscretions with you afterward through their reputations, careers or marriages. Girls compete with one another…take Katie and Daisy for example. Women empower one another. Except…you never empowered anyone but yourself. You used Tanya Reed Smith for her friendship with Rose Stagg. You used Rose Stagg to get to my father. You are not Snow White. You, Stella Gibson, are the poisonous apple from fairy tales." Olivia smiled.

"I may be the poisonous apple…but you are a bigger monster than your father. He only killed five people…six if you count Sarah Kay's unborn child." Stella snapped. "Are your killings in the triple digits by now?"

"I think I was on my way to monster by the time I learned my father was a serial killer. I think I was on my way to monster before my mother tried to kill me. I think I was on my way to monster before my father killed himself." Olivia shrugged.

"He didn't just kill himself," Stella interjected.

"I know. He assaulted you…but he could have easily snapped your neck. It must have given him great pleasure to know he marked you for life, not only physically but mentally. I know he broke Anderson's arm…but again, he could have easily snapped his neck. I never understood why he didn't just snap Joseph Brawley's neck instead of stabbing him. I don't know why he took the damn scissors with him…considering the blood trail to Annie Brawley's room. He should have left them on her dresser…or next to her dead body. Why he left her alive, I will never understand either. I know he assaulted the doctor, but it was to obtain the items he needed to kill himself." Olivia said.

"How do you explain him killing Mark Bailey?" Stella asked.

"I would like to think he put Mark out of his misery; but I believe he did it so he had time to kill himself. Selfish but not surprising," Olivia said. "Prison would have stripped him of what little humanity remained in him. Killing himself kept you from taunting him year after year...bartering better living conditions for the identity of the girls he was with between Rose and Fiona."

"So, are you putting me out of my misery before you kill yourself," Stella asked.

"I'm killing you so you can't destroy any more lives, Stella. Then I am killing myself." Olivia said. "Like my father, I am treatable but not curable. I accept the limitations of my psyche. I self-harm by selling my body to clients who like restraining, disciplining and fucking a teenage girl."

"What other plans have you made or set in motion?" Stella asked.

"Rose Stagg will be found dead by the time the sun rises. It will appear as if she walked into the sea and took her own life, unable to face the media scrutiny caused by this ten-year anniversary. I wanted her to have a gentle death, god knows she's suffered enough already. Assaulted by my father in 2002 and 2012; dead in 2022. She's part of the reason I blew up the AMF. They won't leave her alone. They keep trying to recruit her as a speaker."

"What number is she?" Stella asked.

"Two-hundred-ninety-seven," Olivia said. "You will be two-hundred-ninety-eight. I will be two-hundred-ninety-nine." She paused. ' _Baby Spector will be three hundred_.' She thought. "I've prepaid Liam and my funerals and cremations. I requested our ashes be scattered at sea, like my father's. I don't want your lovers to urinate on my grave when the urge strikes them and the bottle makes them courageous...like Jim Burns. I feel sorry for him too, meeting you, becoming obsessed with you, destroying his life, career and happy home life. I couldn't bring myself to put him out of his misery. I'm sure when he hears of your death, it will destroy him."

"I thought you understood it was your father's greatest wish that you be happy," Stella commented.

"How do you know that I'm not happy doing what I'm doing?" Olivia asked.

"If you think I'm allowing you to kill me without fighting back, you are delusional." Stella said.

"Treatable, not curable," Olivia hit her with the Taser again. She sat in the chair and drank her wine until Stella became coherent again. "I told you, I have the means to play with you for hours. I know you always wondered if there were deaths between Susan Harper and Fiona Gallagher. It's one of your favorite guest speaker topics. You show the same slides year after year; hoping someone will come forward and claim the murder of their loved one was my father's fault. Or hoping some woman would claim she was the A.S. or the R.W. of my father's journals. Perhaps you hoped your new book deal to tell all, including pertinent photos of Dad's lingerie collection or journal collection would help you sell millions of copies and make you more famous than you are."

Stella kept silent, but balefully glared at Olivia.

"I've often wondered what caused my father to break from his traditional stalking, breaking and entering and stealing underwear fetish to move on to murder. I often wondered why he killed Fiona. He had a vanilla relationship with my mother, because she was pregnant before he was arrested. Although, according to my calculations, she must have become pregnant about the time Alice Monroe was killed. If she thought about that at all, she should not have been destroyed when she miscarried. However, I digress. I've figured out my father's trigger, although you never have. You should have examined events in my father's life four to six weeks before Fiona died."

"No one knows what sets a serial killer off," Stella said haughtily. "You may think you know, but you don't."

"I'm very sure I do. Mum took me to see a doctor about my night terrors in late October 2011. The physician's assistant, who interviewed my father while the doctor examined me, was Rose Stagg's doppelganger." Olivia found the picture of Molly O'Brien and showed it to Stella.

"Sexual predators like your father have reasons, but sane people don't understand them." Stella snapped. "You're insane also, so you think you know."

"You missed another obvious clue. I spotted it within days of looking at crime scene photos. Each of ladies had a bottle of floral scent perfume...ROSE based. Remember his confession conversation? _Sounds and colors more vivid; odors more intense._ Dark haired professional women, who looked like Rose, smelled like roses, with rosy cheeks or lips…it was a trifecta of tragedy."

Stella snorted derisively.

"The smell of someone's perfume is the number one atypical turn on," Olivia announced to Stella. "While someone having beard is considered the fourth atypical turn on."

"I'm dying of curiosity about what your Dom looks like," Stella said. "How much does he resemble Daddy?"

"Intelligent…funny…kind…faithful…dependable…generous …confident…romantic," Olivia said.

"You know what I mean, physical attributes," Stella sighed.

"Curly auburn hair which he wore high and tight… blue eyes – but he wore contacts which made his eyes appear to be aqua…soft, sensual lips… straight white teeth… dimples…six feet two…two hundred pounds of sculpted and chiseled muscle… minimal chest hair…well endowed…long, guitar fingers…butt dimples," Olivia sighed. "It broke my heart to walk away from him when I turned 18."

"Why did you walk away from him at 18?" Stella asked.

"Because he did not know about my secret life…and he was ready to collar me. Unlike my father with my mother; I would not drag him into my dark secret." Olivia said. "So how does a bleached blonde bitch like you claim to be such a great profiler of serial killers…when she missed the trigger and clues which set him off?" Olivia asked.

"Like most serial killers...he thought he was too smart to ever be caught," Stella said. "He made mistakes."

"Don't we all," Olivia commented. "I'm sure I've made mistakes in the last two years. I'm sure I've missed someone to add to my list of people to eliminate. I know I missed eliminating my half-siblings." She reached for a stack of files.

"Half-siblings?" Stella whispered, horrified.

"David Alvarez told me Dad was a sperm donor at a fertility clinic in London. They changed ownership seven times since Dad was a donor in Summer 2002. They also moved twice since 2002. I could not access his records. I couldn't spend my time killing every auburn-haired, grey-eyed person born in 2003 or 2004. I had real, viable targets," Olivia sighed.

"Jesus Christ," Stella gasped.

"Is that a _Jesus Christ_ because I considered murdering my half-siblings? Or is that a _Jesus Christ_ because Dad may have fathered another psychopath?" Olivia asked. "Jesus said, 'In my father's house there are many rooms; I go to prepare a place for you.' If God has a special place in heaven for good people, don't you think he has a special place in hell for people like Dad and me?"

Stella's eyes filled with tears; and she lay there, just shaking her head. The thought of another Paul Spector released on the world was a cosmic clusterfuck.

"So, Stella, do you think it's nature or nurture? Was Dad born a psychopath because his father would become a murderer and his mother would kill herself? Or did Dad become a psychopath because he was molested and abused during his formative years? Am I a psychopath because my father was a psychopath and my mother tried to kill me and my brother? Or am I a psychopath because I was raped when I was fifteen and wanted revenge for how shitty my life was after I turned eight? You know, my paternal grandmother killed herself shortly after my father turned eight. I think, if I had enough time and enough wine, I could make an excellent case for either nature or nurture."

"You have no remorse for killing any of these people?" Stella asked.

"I am sorry I cannot put my mother out of her misery. I am sorry Rose Stagg ever met my father. I'm sorry my father wanted a normal life to hide his dark persona. I'm sorry I have a dark persona…because I think loving and being loved would have been heaven on earth." Olivia sighed.

Olivia reached for her Taser. "For Lewis Daniels' family, for Ciaran Boyle's family, for Thomas Strike's family, for Katherine Harris's family…" Olivia named 32 other families affected by Stella's sexual history. "I have a special Peter Baldwin/Paul Spector death arranged for you." She tasered Stella again. She forced Stella's mouth open and slipped a ring gag inside her mouth; buckling it around Stella's head. She slipped a plastic bag over Stella's head. She took the black stocking off the bed and used it to secure the bag in place and tightly knotted it. "Restrained, to ease my task. Tasered, so you are incapacitated and can't rescue yourself. Ring gag so you can't bite the plastic to make a hole for air. Asphyxiation with a stocking ligature. However, I won't release and rechoke like Dad did. I haven't the patience for it." Olivia commented. "Be happy Stella. I saved death by strangulation just for you."

She poured herself another glass of wine and sat down. She watched as Stella Gibson ran out of oxygen; her body thrashed in the throes of death. "Cheers, you selfish bitch. See you on the other side." She toasted the still, motionless body and emptied her drink. She turned off the recording app on her mobile.

Olivia swept the top of Stella's chest of drawers clean with one swipe of an arm. She sorted files into piles. Using sticky notes, she labeled the piles 1-4, in chronological order of her crimes. The bottom file in the last pile was labeled _Olivia Ann Spector_. She placed both her Petra Baldwin and Mary Celeste Garrison IDs in the file. It contained a written and signed confession from her along with the paid receipt for Liam and her cremations and burial at sea. She reached into her purse and withdrew a tube of rose pink lipstick. She drew a large heart, with a piercing arrow pointed at the files.

Olivia moved to the lounge. She turned the TV to a news channel. She waited, quietly until the devastating news of an explosion at the Belfast Home for Boys aired. Arson experts were unable to sift through rubble until the intense heat dissipated. So far, the body count was fifteen and rising.

Olivia lifted her mobile phone from her purse and activated the conversation recording app again. She poured herself another glass of wine and took a handful of powerful sedatives. "This is Olivia Ann Spector, aka Petra Baldwin, aka Mary Celeste Garrison. I am the daughter of Paul Spector, aka Peter Baldwin, aka the Belfast Strangler. I am responsible for the deaths of the remaining counselors and Father Jensen from Gortnacul House. I am responsible for the deaths of the men who were assigned to live at Gortnacul House as children. I am responsible for the deaths of their children who became criminals. I am responsible for the deaths of two social workers who sent my father to Gortnacul House. I killed Thomas Garamond, Lucas Black and Charles Teller and their wives in Belfast. I am responsible for the deaths of three social workers in Belfast who certified Thomas and Vivienne Garamond as foster parents. I am responsible for the deaths of Sarah Broadhurst and Mary Louise Langham. I am responsible for the death of Daisy Drake. I am responsible for the death of Liam Spector. I am responsible for the death of Katie Benedetto. I am responsible for the destruction of Belfast Home for Boys and the deaths associated with that destruction. I am responsible for the death of Rose Stagg. I am responsible for the destruction of the Alice Monroe Foundation. I am responsible for the death of Stella Gibson. I left sets of files on the chest of drawers in Stella Gibson's bedroom. I am killing myself after I use Stella's mobile to dial 999. Three days ago, I learned I am pregnant. The baby's father does not know I am pregnant. He does not know about this dark side of my life. Monsters beget monsters. I will not bring another monster into this world…especially since I've spent the last two years ridding the world of monsters." She terminated the message. She set the mobile on the table and took a picture of her father and her out of her handbag. "I love you most in the whole wide world, Daddy. Forgive me little one." She apologized and patted her abdomen. She retrieved Stella's mobile and dialed 999. She opened the drapes in Stella's lounge to watch the sunrise, while her life quietly slipped away.


End file.
